


Beautiful Blue, Beautiful You

by lieutenantcat (timeandteacups)



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Pretty Woman (1990)
Genre: (also Hank is not a cop - I couldn't make it work with this AU), (like he is in the movie lol), (like it happens in the movie), Anal Sex, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bottom Connor, Connor breaking all the rules to make Hank happy, Connor deviates slowwwwly, Connor is a Traci model, Crossover, Deviancy (Detroit: Become Human), Eden Club (Detroit: Become Human), Hank drinks every day of course, Hank is Hank, Hank is like super rich, M/M, Phil Stuckey is a jerk, Pretty Woman AU, Riding, Smut, Top Hank, brief mentions of suicide ideation/attempt, but he's still Hank, follows the movie plot mostly, they take so many baths together i've lost count, two idiots falling in love, wireplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22975255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeandteacups/pseuds/lieutenantcat
Summary: Hank is on a business trip, drunk and tired of being alone. His solution? Spending the night with an Eden Club android.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 119
Kudos: 399





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Last time I've watched Pretty Woman, I thought "hm, what if it was Hankcon?" and so this happened. It will be easier to understand if you've watched the movie, but it's probably okay if you haven't, too.
> 
> \- Originally I wanted Hank to be "lieutenant Anderson" but I couldn't find a way to make it work the way I wanted to, so here he works with the same thing as Edward does in the movie.
> 
> \- I kept a lot of characters from the movie, too. I especially wanted to keep Phil Stuckey - because I hate him, and I don't think anyone from the game deserves to be in his place, lol
> 
> \- They definitely don't have as much sex as Edward and Vivian do in the movie, because... because Hank. ;)
> 
> \- Yesterday I found the song "Beautiful Blue" by Holly McNarland, and that was my inspiration for the title. :)
> 
> \- I want to thank my girlfriend @[empathalitis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathalitis) for reading this before anyone else and helping me so much with this story, and my friend @[JJCross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjcross) for betaing this for me. ♥

Hank sits in his car parked in front of the Eden Club. Well, it's not really _his_ car. After enduring a stupid party full of rich people who just pretended to be interested in talking to him for about an hour, he took his lawyer's car and decided to go to his hotel alone. He only ever goes to those kinds of parties for business, and he always lets his lawyer do the talking while he avoids everyone else and drinks too much. Tonight, after a woman started flirting with him – not even giving him time to get used to being divorced – he decided to up and leave. He could drink more at the hotel.

He feels his phone vibrating in his pocket before it starts ringing, and he doesn't need to look at the screen to know who it is.

"Yeah, Phil?" he says, bringing the phone up to his ear.

"Hank, where the hell are you?" his lawyer sounds worried – certainly more about the car than about Hank. "Did you get to the hotel yet?" 

"No," Hank says, watching as a man walks into the building in front of him. "Your car is fine, if that's what you wanna know. You'll have it back by tomorrow."

"Hank, do you even know how to get to Beverly Hills?" 

"Ever heard of GPS, Phil?" 

"I should be asking you this, you're the one who's against technology," Phil says. "And by the way, you should have taken an autonomous car, since you're drunk."

"Come on, Phil, you know how much I hate those fucking things," Hank says. "And I'm not _drunk_."

Big lie. He _is_ drunk. He wouldn't be sitting outside an Eden Club if alcohol wasn't clouding his judgement. 

"Hank, listen–" 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Phil," Hank says, and hangs up.

Hank doesn't really know why he stopped here. He watches the pink neon lights that spell _"Eden Club – exclusive"_ as he imagines going inside and renting an android for the night. 

Fuck, he must be really drunk to even consider this. He just feels lonely as fuck ever since his divorce, but at the same time he definitely doesn't want to spend time with people. And he's heard of the _exclusive_ Eden Clubs, the ones only frequented by rich people, the ones where you can rent an android for the whole night or even a few days and take it home with you - after paying a fortune for it, of course. Androids with the most advanced hardware or whatever, they were all over the news these days, but Hank had never cared. He doesn't like androids and definitely would never have sex with one. 

Phil suggested, a few weeks ago, that Hank should buy an android to keep him company, only to have Hank lash out at him about how much he hates androids. Never, in a million years, would he buy one.

But then again, he _is_ lonely. And maybe it wasn’t actually such a bad idea. Humans talk too much, ask too many questions, get _attached_. Hank doesn't want any of that. He just misses having a body to hold, someone he can watch TV with while he drinks, someone he can cuddle until he falls asleep.

Hank knows he will regret it for the rest of the night, maybe for the rest of the week, but he gets out of the car and walks into the building. He blames it on the alcohol and his self destructive behavior. 

In the middle of the room, there are androids pole dancing, while others stand in the corners inside clear glass compartments. All of them wearing only underwear. Hank stops and stares. Everything – their skin, their eyes, their hair, _everything_ – looks alarmingly realistic. The only thing that gives them away is the LED they all have on the right temple, glowing a calm blue. 

He continues, and as he walks by the androids, they place their hands on the glass and look at him, some of them smiling, as if they're interested in him. Hank stops in front of a female android, considering it for a moment. 

_Just pick one_ , he tells himself. _They all look good, they'll all act the same way. They probably have no actual personality._

A movement to his right catches his attention. The android puts its palm against the glass and Hank turns to look at it, finding soft brown eyes staring at him. It's a male android with brown hair and pale skin. For a moment, Hank loses himself looking at the light freckles on its chest, the darker ones on its shoulders, the occasional mole here and there. Part of him – a big part, if he's being honest with himself, which he’s not – wants to touch those freckles, kiss them, trace them with his tongue. Hank wonders if its skin feels as realistic as it looks. How it would be to run his fingers through its hair.

Fuck, he needs to get out of here, this is a bad idea. 

Then the android tilts its head as if curious, and it fucking _smiles_. 

Hank hasn't been with a man since before he met his ex-wife, which means almost ten years ago. _Not_ that he's intending to have sex with this android, or any other, for that matter. But fuck, he’s always had a preference for men.

He knows that when he's sober he's going to hate himself for doing this, but he touches the blue screen on the side of this freckled android’s glass box. Quickly, before he has time to change his mind, he picks the 24-hour option, presses his palm to the screen, and confirms the purchase. He very determinedly doesn't look at the price.

The glass door opens and the android steps out, standing in front of Hank. God, why do they have to make these androids so fucking beautiful? The android's LED spins yellow a few times and then it's back to blue.

"Thank you for your purchase," the android says. "What is your name?"

"Uh… Hank," Hank says, already regretting this. He wonders if it's too late to back out and get a refund. 

"Hello, Hank, it's a pleasure to meet you. I see that you made the 24-hour purchase. If you'll wait here, I'll be ready for you in a moment." The android turns around and enters a room to Hank's right.

Hank doesn't know where it went, what's it's doing, or even how long it was in that room – he just knows the android is gone long enough for him to question his decision for the eighth time. When the android comes back, it's wearing a black button down shirt with a blue triangle on the left side of its chest, and its model number – _HR400_ – on the right. On the right sleeve, a blue armband. The first buttons of the shirt are undone to expose its prominent collarbones. It also wears black jeans and shoes.

"Sorry about that, Hank," the android says, "we can go now."

"So, you guys can't go outside without the Cyberlife clothes, huh?" Hank asks, walking out of the Eden Club with the android following him. 

"No," it says. "Once we're at your place, you can have me dress however you like. But when I'm out in public, I'm requested to wear the Cyberlife uniform."

"Hm." Hank doesn't intend to be seen in public with any androids, but if he is, he wouldn't want it wearing the Cyberlife uniform, especially not with this particular model number on its shirt. 

When they get to the car, Hank opens the door for the android, waits for it to sit in the passenger seat, then shuts the door. He tells himself there's nothing to it – he would do this for anyone who's going out with him, it's just polite. Except this isn't someone going out with him – it's a fucking sex android. Hank gets in the car and starts driving in silence, trying not to think too much about all the bad decisions he’s made tonight. 

"So, where are you taking me tonight, Hank?"

"Uh, to a hotel," Hank says. He's not sure he wants to talk to the android. He's not sure what he wants at all. "I don't live here, I'm staying at a hotel. The Regent Beverly Wilshire."

"Oh," the android says. "I'm sure it's very nice, Hank."

Hank sighs. He doesn't really want to engage in whatever pre-programmed conversation comes with these androids. Reminds him too much of the painful small talk at the rich people party. But after a decent stretch of silence, Hank finally asks,

"So, do you have a name?"

"My model doesn't have an assigned name," the android says. "We will register the name the client gives us, until we return to Eden Club. My name is whatever you want it to be."

Hank doesn't want to _give_ it a name. That’s too personal. You give androids a name when you buy them. You give it a name, and then you get attached. 

"What if I wanted you to pick your own name?" Hank tries. 

"I suppose I could do that," the android says, thoughtfully.

The GPS tells Hank that the hotel is down the block. The android is quiet. As Hank shoots it a glance, he sees the LED light reflected on the car window – yellow. It only speaks again when Hank parks the car in front of the hotel, a little crookedly.

"Connor," the android says. 

"What?" 

"I looked up some names online," it says. "I like the name Connor. What do you think?"

"It's… uh, great," Hank says, getting out of the car and walking around to open the passenger door for the android. _Connor_ , he reminds himself. As Connor steps out, Hank takes off his own coat and wraps it around Connor's shoulders. 

"Wear this," Hank says. "I doubt that androids from Eden Club are welcome inside."

Walking inside and getting his key was easy enough; the hotel has android workers as well as humans and nobody asks about the android accompanying him. Hank supposes most rich people travel with their personal androids and take them to hotels. Of course, Hank's coat hides Connor’s model number. The android at the desk informs him that all his bags are already in his room and Hank takes the opportunity to request a bottle of whiskey, wishing he could be home with a drink and his dog instead of in this hotel with this whiskey and a sex android. 

The whole time, Connor stands next to him, fingers playing with one of the buttons of Hank's coat. The motion looks jittery, like it's… Anxious? It's so human that Hank feels the sudden urge to comfort it.

"Hey, stop fidgeting," Hank says, reaching for Connor's hands and holding them. Fuck, it _feels exactly like human skin_. Warm and soft and smooth. They look up at the same time, into each other's eyes, and Hank wants to know how the rest of Connor's body feels. He clears his throat. "Stop. It's okay."

"Mr. Anderson?" a male android standing next to Hank says, and Hank lets go of Connor's hands to look at it. "My name is Dennis," it continues, with a smile. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to your room."

×

"Wow, this is so nice, Hank," Connor says as they arrive at the penthouse, Hank opening the door and letting Connor in first. It is nice, but Hank has been to so many of these before that it doesn't impress him anymore. 

Hank moves to the desk, pulls his laptop out of his briefcase and turns it on. He still has work to do tonight, even if right now he feels very compelled to just sleep, curled up around Connor and his – _its_ , Hank corrects himself - soft synthetic skin. He looks at Connor and notices him – _it_ , he corrects himself sternly – looking around, apparently taking in every detail of the room. Hank sits at the desk and observes Connor for a moment, as Connor runs his fingertips over the back of one of the plush sofas. 

"Ever been to a place like this before?" Hank asks, a smile on his lips. He has to admit Connor looks… kind of adorable. 

"I don't know," Connor says. "Our memories are wiped when we go back to Eden Club. It's a way to protect the client's privacy."

"Oh," Hank says. It takes a moment for that to sink in. "So when I return you to Eden Club tomorrow night, you'll forget everything about me?" 

"Well, some fragments of data always stay," Connor says. "But they're usually blurred and confusing. So essentially, yes. I'll forget everything about you."

Hank hums, turning back to his laptop again. He doesn't know how to feel about this.

"Does that bother you, Hank?" Connor asks, and Hank's eyes follow him as Connor walks through the big glass doors to the terrace. 

_Him_. Hank is already forgetting Connor is a _machine_ , apparently. But hell, doesn't he look exactly like a human being? _Fuck_.

"No," Hank says, not sure he's being honest. "It's better this way. Privacy, and all that shit."

"Oh, it's so beautiful out here, Hank," Connor's voice comes from outside, and Hank can practically hear him smiling. 

"Yeah," Hank says, his thoughts far away from the work he's supposed to be doing even though his eyes are glued to his laptop. "Yeah, it is."

He wonders if Connor is always like this, amazed at the places his clients take him, and if he always seems genuinely curious about it all like he does now. He wonders how many people have rented Connor already. 

"Hey Connor," Hank calls, and Connor quickly comes back inside. "When were you activated?" 

"Three months ago," Connor says. "I'm sorry that I got distracted out there, Hank."

"Huh. I didn't know androids could get distracted."

"My apologies," Connor says. "We may start now if you like."

"Start?" Hank looks up from his laptop, his hands on the keyboard, not moving. Connor moves closer, until he's standing right next to Hank, leaning against the desk. Hank's mouth feels dry. "Actually, I…"

"What do you want to do with me, Hank?" Connor asks, his voice deeper as he stares down at Hank with half-lidded eyes.

Shit, he's definitely regretting this. 

Hank clears his throat. "Nothing, I… honestly, I just wanted company for the night."

"Oh," Connor says, looking a bit taken aback. His LED spins yellow once, before going back to the calm blue it was before. "Why?"

"Well, I…" Hank hesitates. He's not the kind of guy who talks about his _feelings_. Especially not with androids. Well, especially not with humans either. Then again, Connor's memory will be wiped when he goes back to Eden Club tomorrow. If Hank ever wanted to be honest about his feelings, this would be the perfect moment for it.

Connor is watching him patiently, and as Hank looks up into those soft brown eyes he thinks he can be honest. Or half honest, at least. 

"I feel lonely," he says.

Connor's LED spins yellow once more.

"Why do you feel lonely, Hank?" Connor asks, his voice so fucking soft now. "Do you have a significant other? Kids? Friends?"

"I had a wife," Hank says, deciding not to mention Cole. That's something he definitely doesn't feel ready to talk about. "We got divorced three months ago."

 _Coincidently_ , Hank thinks, exactly around the time Connor was activated.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Hank says. "It's better this way. She's happier now."

The yellow LED is starting to make Hank uncomfortable, so he looks down, spotting Connor's right hand resting on the desk. He wants to touch it, to feel the soft, warm skin against his own again. Then he realizes he _can_ , because he paid a small fortune to spend the night with this android.

"As for friends, well…" Hank reaches for Connor's hand and Connor lets him hold it. Hank's thumb caresses Connor's wrist softly. "I'm not sure if I really have any."

He has Phil, but can he truly consider Phil a friend? Hank talks to him more than he talks to anybody else now that he's divorced and living alone again. He trusts Phil enough, it's true, but he doesn't go to Phil when he's feeling sad or call him when he’s having a bad day. Which is good, considering that for the past three years every day has been a bad day. 

Out of curiosity, Hank's fingers stop where Connor's pulse point would be if he were human. Connor's synthetic skin recedes as Hank presses his fingertips down harder, exposing the white plastic underneath, and Hank is sure he can feel a pulse. Faint, almost imperceptible, but definitely there.

"I… I’ve never liked androids, Connor." Hank lets go of Connor's wrist, watching as the synthetic skin immediately covers the spots where his fingers were. "But I'm so fucking tired of humans. I guess that's why I rented you."

Hank looks up at Connor again, sees the yellow light on the android's temple, and gets up. "It was probably a mistake."

"Maybe I can help you feel better, Hank," Connor says, reaching for him, placing his hands on Hank's shoulders and pulling him closer. "I can help you relax." Connor's breath feels warm against Hank's skin as Connor leans closer, too close, and how the _fuck_ do they make these eyes look so _fucking_ human? 

"No, I–" Hank swallows, taking a step back. "Why don't we just talk for a bit?"

Is his fucking LED ever going to turn blue again? Should Hank file a complaint to Eden Club for letting him rent a defective android?

"Oh, um, okay…" Connor moves away from the desk, clasps his hands together as he thinks. However the fuck _android thinking_ works. "So, Hank, are you in town on business or pleasure?"

"Business," Hank says, moving to sit in an armchair. Connor follows, sits on the pouf in front of Hank's chair, but keeps his distance, and his hands to himself. 

"Where are you from?" Connor asks.

 _Android small talk. Wonders of technology._

"Detroit," Hank says, shooting a glance at Connor's temple. The LED glows blue again. He's about to ask Connor why it was turning yellow so much before, when the doorbell rings.

"Fucking finally," Hank says, standing up.

"What's that?"

Hank turns to look at him, and finds Connor standing next to him, _standing too close_ , Connor's face feeling mere inches away from his own, and his brain freezes for a second. 

"Uh, the whiskey," Hank says, moving away from Connor to get the door. He doesn't need to look back to know that Connor's eyes are following him across the room. 

Hank opens the door, letting the room service attendant inside. It's another android, a female one this time. 

"Where would you like it, sir?" the android asks.

"Over by the bar," Hank replies, following the android as it sets down the tray containing Hank's whiskey. "Thank you."

Is he seriously thanking androids now?

"You're welcome, sir." The android turns around and leaves, closing the door.

Hank fixes himself a drink. He knows he wouldn't have a sex android in his hotel room right now if he wasn't already drunk, at least to some degree. He shouldn't be drinking more. Yet he can't see himself spending the entire night without drinking, especially when there's _a fucking sex android in his hotel room._

"I assume alcohol doesn't have an effect on androids," Hank says, walking back to his armchair with his glass of whiskey in one hand, and the bottle in the other. 

Connor chuckles, and the sound seems to surprise him as much as it surprises Hank. "It doesn't," Connor says as Hank sits down. Connor watches him take a sip of his drink before speaking again. "My model _can_ ingest a certain amount of liquid, obviously–"

 _Obviously_. Hank doesn't want to think about the kind of _liquid_ Connor has been swallowing in the past three months. 

"–but the alcohol wouldn't have any effect, no."

Hank stares at Connor's lips, and it's not hard to imagine those lips wrapped around a cock. Wrapped around _his_ cock. His body feels hot. _Fuck_ , he needs more alcohol, and at the same time, he should definitely stop drinking. 

He needs to stop focusing on Connor, too. 

"But I can pretend to be drunk," Connor says with a little smirk. "If that's what you're into."

Hank stares at Connor as he processes what Connor just said. It must be the alcohol slowing down his brain. Or it must be the realization that Connor can probably make anybody's deepest, darkest kinks come true. _Fucking androids_.

"No–" Hank says, standing up. "I don't want you to pretend. I have some work to do, gotta make a couple phone calls. Why don't you, I don't know, choose something to watch on TV?"

"Okay, Hank," Connor says, already standing up and moving to sit in front of the TV instead.

Connor sits on the carpet, his LED spinning yellow once, and the TV turns on. Hank grabs his laptop and sits on the end of the couch that's closest to Connor, telling himself this is just another completely random choice he's making tonight. 

Surprisingly, he manages to get some work done and make the phone calls he needs to make, even with alcohol buzzing through him, even when Connor is sitting in front of him, laughing quietly at a show that Hank doesn't know the name of, as the light from the TV bathes his skin in many different colors.

Hank shuts down his laptop, puts it on the coffee table, and _stares_. He doesn't know how long he stares, but he observes Connor's eyes and smile and the rise and fall of his chest – androids don't actually need oxygen, do they? – until Connor turns and catches him staring.

"Hank?" Connor says, a smile still on his face.

Hank's brain doesn't work fast enough to formulate a reply. Connor moves, crawling closer until he's kneeling between Hank's legs. He rests his hands on Hank's thighs, caressing them in slow movements, and Hank stares straight into deep brown eyes.

"Con–" Hank's voice sounds hoarse, and he clears his throat. "Connor…"

Connor's LED spins yellow once as he mutes the TV. He blinks slowly at Hank, looking up at him through long lashes. "Is there anything I can do for you now, Hank?"

"What exactly _do_ you do?" Hank asks out of sheer curiosity, or at least that's what he tells himself. He takes a sharp breath as Connor's hands move up his thighs.

"Everything," Connor says with a soft smile. "I'm equipped with the most advanced sexual protocols and hardware. I can fulfill any fantasy, any request, and it's all completely safe. You don't even have to prepare me. I'm always ready for you." 

"I didn't plan this out, Connor," Hank admits. Damn, the circular movements of Connor’s thumbs on his inner thighs _are_ doing things to him. His body feels hot again, his cock half-hard already. "Is there anything that _you_ want to do?"

"I'm an android, Hank," Connor says calmly, his hands never stopping. "Don't worry about me. I'll do whatever you tell me to do."

Logically, Hank shouldn't feel bad about this; Connor is an android, a machine _created_ specifically for this. Using Connor for sex should be just like using a sex toy. 

However, Connor is a sex toy that can think and talk – and that costs a fortune – and everything Connor is saying and doing was programmed by someone. Which means he also doesn't truly feel attracted to Hank at all. 

It also means Connor can't truly consent. 

"I'm not comfortable with this, Connor."

"Why not?" Connor's hands stop and Hank swears his brown eyes look sad.

Hank sighs. He doesn't like androids, doesn't like how everything is programmed and how they don't have real feelings. Whatever kind of attraction he feels for Connor, Connor can't reciprocate. He can pretend to reciprocate, but that wouldn't make Hank feel good. In fact, it only reminds him of how miserable and lonely he actually is. 

And what's worse, these androids are basically sex slaves, forced to do whatever their sick human clients want them to do, and not getting anything out of it. It's sad, and Hank wonders if it's true that androids can't feel anything, wonders if Connor remembers more than just small rumbled pieces from previous clients and what they did to him. Wonders if Connor felt anything when they touched him, if it was good or bad. And then he feels irrationally jealous, because how dare these people touch Connor, because _he_ wants to touch Connor, but he's not about to fuck a machine, he's _not_ about to fuck a sex slave. 

"It's not right," Hank says, his thoughts bouncing dangerously back and forth. Hank wants to lie and say he doesn't feel attracted to Connor, that he doesn't want him. That he didn't wish Connor could want him too. But nobody wants Hank, except for sex androids programmed to want whoever rents them.

"This is what I was made for, Hank," Connor says, resuming his movements on Hank's thighs, hands moving up, dangerously close to Hank's groin. "Just relax and let m–" 

Hank grabs Connor's wrists and holds his hands up. "Fuck, Connor, stop!"

Connor freezes, staring up at Hank, his LED yellow again, spinning furiously. An android. That's all Connor is. A machine, only trying to have sex with Hank because some sick person put some crazy software into its computer brain.

"This was a big mistake," Hank says, letting go of Connor's wrists just to move away from him and get up from the couch. "I'm taking you back to Eden Club in the morning." 

He would do it tonight if he thought he could drive without crashing Phil's car. Maybe he should do it, just crash the car and die and–

"Hank, it's alright, I am programmed to–" 

"Fuck your programming!" Hank says, moving to retrieve his whiskey bottle and his glass from the side table next to the armchair, before walking into the bedroom and slamming the door. "Just, leave me alone!"

He needs to drink. Drink and sleep. And then maybe tomorrow he will wake up and find out that this was all just a bad dream. Except that it's not a dream at all, and drinking isn't gonna make him feel better. Yet he fills his glass once again. 

×

It's almost two hours later when he feels like he can face Connor again. Reminding himself over and over that Connor is not a person doesn't make Hank feel any less guilty for leaving him alone in the living room after lashing out, and doesn't stop him from worrying about Connor spending the night alone and probably confused. It was his decision to bring Connor here, anyway. His mistake. It's not Connor's fault.

He opens the bedroom door slowly and walks into the living room to find Connor sitting on the couch, staring blankly ahead, LED spinning red. Hank feels a stab of guilt for overreacting.

"Connor?" he says in a quiet voice, moving to sit next to the android.

Connor blinks and turns his head to look at him. Hank almost sighs in relief. At least he didn't break him – he doesn't even want to know how much he would have to pay the Eden Club if he broke their most _advanced_ android.

"I'm sorry for upsetting you, Hank," Connor begins. 

"No, I just… Fuck, Connor, I..." Hank runs a hand through his own hair. "I've always had a bad feeling about these Eden Clubs, and now I think I know why. I shouldn't have rented you."

"But you wanted company," Connor says. 

"Yeah, _company_ ," Hank says. "I didn't bring you here to have sex, Connor. Maybe I should have chosen a different model. Fuck. I know what you were made for. But I don't wanna take advantage of that."

"You seem to be forgetting that I'm just a machine, Hank," Connor says, avoiding Hank's eyes, his LED changing to yellow. "It's okay."

Connor is right. But it doesn't matter. Hank shakes his head. _It's not okay._ A couple of minutes pass and Connor doesn't say a word. 

"Are you alright, Connor?" Hank asks when he can't take the silence anymore. 

"Yes, it's just…" Connor shifts to look at Hank again. "This doesn't normally happen."

"Thought you said your memories get wiped and you don't remember what _normally happens._ "

"I also said that some fragments of data always stay with us," Connor says. "I have… pieces of memories that I can't put together properly. But I don't have any that includes a client not wanting to have sex with me."

 _Of course not_ , Hank thinks. How could anybody _not_ want to have sex with Connor? 

Hank wants to, as well. He shouldn't want to, and he won't do it, for God's sake. Of all the mistakes he's made while drunk, bringing an android into his hotel room to spend the night has to be the worst of them all, but he's not gonna make an even bigger one. 

"Also, it's in our program to never deny a client's request," Connor continues. 

"Fuck. This isn't right, Connor," Hank says.

Connor shrugs. "It's just the way it is." 

"It's not what I want from you."

"Alright…" Connor nods and they sit in silence for a moment, until Connor turns to look at him again. "Is cuddling acceptable?"

Hank doesn't answer immediately. He should probably say no, stay the fuck away from Connor, avoid any and all physical contact, but fuck, he misses physical contact so much. He didn't have any after his wife left him. Not only that, but he still feels guilty for lashing out and leaving Connor alone.

"Yeah," he says reluctantly, but Connor moves closer anyway, wraps his arms around Hank and rests his head on Hank's shoulder. Connor feels warm and soft and Hank rests his head against the back of the sofa, closing his eyes. Fuck, this feels nice. Connor feels nice.

They stay like this for a while, Connor watching another TV show, or maybe it's the same one from before, Hank doesn't really know. He's too tired and too drunk to pay attention to it. Having Connor's arms around him makes him feel so comfortable that he has to force himself to stay awake and not just fall asleep on the couch. He wants to take Connor to bed with him. Just to sleep, he tells himself. Just to have someone there, someone he can hold close to him until he falls asleep. He wants to feel the rest of Connor's skin, not just his hands. It would be another mistake, but a little one. 

"Connor," Hank mumbles, forcing his eyes open. "We should go to bed."

"Okay," Connor says, turning the TV off. He doesn't question Hank, and doesn't seem surprised at all. Programmed to take orders and do whatever the clients say.

Hank sighs. "Okay," he repeats, and gets up.

Connor follows him into the bedroom, and Hank goes to look for one of his old T-shirts in his suitcase. He picks one and keeps his back turned to Connor as he undresses, feeling self-conscious suddenly. Fuck, it shouldn't matter what an android thinks about him. Androids aren't even supposed to have _opinions_. He could sleep naked if he wanted to. Still, he keeps his underwear and puts the T-shirt on.

As he turns to look at Connor, he sees him standing next to the bed, his fingers working on the buttons of his shirt, slowly revealing his torso to Hank, and Hank is most definitely _not_ staring. It feels unfair, after he tried his best to hide from Connor's eyes, but it's really not unfair at all if he considers that, _first_ , he's already seen him, back at Eden Club _and_ paid for this and _second_ , Connor's body looks fucking _perfect_. 

Hank watches Connor _folding_ his clothes as he removes them, and wonders who the fuck programmed a sex android to fold clothes. Connor places his clothes on top of the dresser before walking back to the bed, keeping only his underwear.

The underwear with _Eden Club_ written on it. Hank tells himself that the only reason why he wants Connor to get rid of them is because he fucking hates the Eden Club. 

He's been telling himself a lot of lies tonight.

"Is there anything you'd like me to wear to bed, Hank?" Connor asks.

Hank considers giving Connor another one of his old _Knights of the Black Death_ shirts – he always carries a few of them with him when he travels. Then he decides he prefers Connor like this.

"No," he says. "This is fine."

He lies down and Connor follows, sliding under the blankets with him.

"Hank?" Connor asks in a whisper. 

"Yeah?" 

"Is there anything you want me to do for you?" 

"Stop asking me that," Hank says, annoyed. Not at Connor, but at himself, because _yes_ , there are many things he wants Connor to do for him. "When I want something from you, I'm gonna tell you."

"Okay."

Hank closes his eyes. He feels cold without Connor's warm body against his. He sighs, defeated. 

"Connor?"

"Yes, Hank?"

"Come closer."

Connor obeys immediately, sliding closer to Hank and curling up around him, his arm around Hank's waist as he presses his face against Hank's neck. Hank holds him close and swears he can feel Connor smiling. The LED on his temple is a steady blue light in the dark room. 

"Do you sleep?" Hank asks quietly after a while. 

"Not exactly," Connor says. "I can enter stasis when I'm with a client and they want to sleep together. To you it'll seem like I'm sleeping."

"Well, that's good enough," Hank says, closing his eyes.

Hank feels Connor breathe with him, synchronized, his breath warm against Hank's neck. As he feels himself drifting off to sleep, he feels more comfortable than he has in months. Maybe in years. 

And Connor must know he's falling asleep, because his arm squeezes Hank softly and he snuggles closer, letting out a content sigh. "Goodnight, Hank."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank decides he wants Connor to stay longer than 24 hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha, if you've watched the movie you knew this was coming x) This is Connor's POV, guys :)

Connor supposes an android in stasis isn't too different from a human sleeping, but of course not all humans are the same. The human curled up around him is a heavy sleeper who doesn't move even when his phone starts ringing on the bedside table. 

"Hank," Connor says, caressing Hank's cheek softly. "Hank, wake up."

Hank mumbles something Connor doesn't understand and hugs him even tighter, pressing his face to Connor's neck with a soft sigh. It feels so good that Connor considers just letting him sleep, but the phone keeps ringing and Connor thinks it might be important, so he tries again.

"Hank," he says, louder, moving to untangle himself from Hank. "Your phone is ringing."

Hank finally blinks opens his eyes, blindly reaching for his phone and tapping the screen to accept the call.

"Yeah. Hey Phil," he says, holding the phone to his ear, his voice still heavy with sleep. He looks at Connor and offers him a soft smile. "Look, Phil, it's too fucking early for this, I just woke up–" 

_"It's noon, Hank!"_ Connor can hear Phil's raised voice over the phone. _"I need you to take this seriously."_

"Alright, alright, stop fucking yelling," Hank says, more tired than actually annoyed, as he gets up and walks into the bathroom. Connor can't hear what Phil says anymore, but he hears Hank saying _sure_ and _I'll be there_ before Hank emerges wearing a white fluffy robe. He barely glances at Connor before leaving the bedroom. 

Alone in bed, Connor lies back and stares at the ceiling, deciding to give Hank some privacy. He wonders if Hank will bring him back to the Eden Club now. Hank paid for 24 hours, so technically Connor can stay with him until later tonight, but it seems like Hank is going somewhere – perhaps work – and it also seems like Hank isn't that interested in anything Connor can give him – except maybe cuddling in bed while he sleeps. 

Something seems wrong when he thinks about going back to the Eden Club, but he pushes it away. He checks his biocomponents and software for errors and instabilities, just in case. When everything seems fine, he decides to get up. 

Hank is sitting at the table eating pancakes, scrolling through his tablet. A quick scan shows he’s looking through some news articles. Connor watches Hank for a while, not wanting to disturb him. When he puts the tablet down to grab his mug of coffee, Connor approaches.

"Hi, Hank. Did you sleep well?"

Hank swallows a mouthful of pancake, sipping his coffee. "Better than I have in years," he says. "How about y– shit, it's easy to forget you're not human."

Connor smiles. "That's the idea." 

"Sit with me," Hank says, indicating the chair closest to him. Connor does. "You guys don't eat, do you?" 

"I can," Connor says. He knows some humans enjoy feeding their partners before or even during sex. "But only a little and I have to clean up after. But if you'd like to see me eat–" 

"No, it's… it's not like that," Hank says quietly, turning his attention back to his pancakes. "I was just curious."

"Do you always eat breakfast at noon?" Connor asks. "Just curious," he adds with a smile. 

Hank chuckles. "Well, usually I only wake up before noon when Phil calls me and starts yelling like he did today." He shuts off his tablet. "God, I miss newspapers."

"Anything I can help you with, Hank?"

"Nah, I'm good," Hank says. "I need to go to work anyway. You okay staying here until I come back?"

Connor smiles. "Yes."

×

"Is everything okay, Hank?" Connor asks later as Hank struggles with his tie in front of the mirror. "Your friend on the phone sounded upset."

"Yeah," Hank says. "Stressful time. Trying to buy a company and – god, this fucking tie!" 

"Here, let me do it for you," Connor says, moving to stand in front of Hank. He reaches for Hank's tie, feels the smooth fabric between his fingers. "So… is that what you do? You buy companies?”

"Yeah."

Connor’s close. He can see Hank’s throat pulse as he swallows, and Connor feels a sudden impulse to lean in and mouth at his neck, taste his skin. _It's not what Hank wants._ He holds back, tying Hank's tie easily, aware that Hank is watching him the whole time. 

"What do you do with the companies after you buy them?" Connor asks. 

"I sell them."

"You… sell them?" Connor looks up into Hank's eyes, genuinely confused. 

"Well, I–" 

They're too close, and Hank seems to lose his train of thought. He blinks, clears his throat and tries again. 

"I don't sell the whole company," Hank says. "I break it up into pieces, and then sell them off. It's worth more than the whole."

"I see," Connor says. "So you don't make anything, or build anything?"

"That's… a weird question for an android to ask," Hank says, watching Connor with narrowed eyes. 

"Sorry," Connor says, adjusting Hank's tie to make sure it looks good. "The more I know about you the more I can adapt to you and your needs." He rests his hands on Hank's chest. "There. You– it looks perfect now." 

Hank continues staring at Connor for a moment before shifting his gaze to his own reflection in the mirror. "Thank you. You're good at this."

"It's in my program," Connor says, smiling. 

"Of course it is," Hank says, staring at his reflection, and Connor's smile disappears as he hears the hint of disappointment in Hank's voice.

Connor waits for instructions, or for Hank to leave, or say anything to him.

"Hey, so," Hank says after a moment, turning to face Connor again. "Since you're staying here until tonight, why don't you… I don't know, enjoy the bathtub or something? It's really nice."

"Alright. I’ll do that now, if that’s okay,” Connor says, happy that Hank gave him something to do, even if it was phrased like a suggestion. As he turns around to walk into the bedroom, he hears Hank's phone ringing again. He doesn't stay to see who's calling.

Connor undresses as he fills the bathtub. It's big enough for two people, and he wishes Hank would take a bath with him. Wishes? No, he can't really wish for things. But he's programmed to seek human company. He's sensitive to touch, and programmed to crave it, to feel it, to respond to it. If only Hank wanted him this way. 

The warm water feels nice on his skin when Connor finally steps in, his body hidden from view by the bubbles. He closes his eyes and sighs, content to enjoy the warmth. He finds himself thinking about Hank. About the man coming and joining him in the tub. How Connor could sit on his lap and kiss him, and maybe Hank would let Connor touch him, make him feel good. Connor would even ride him in the bathtub if Hank wanted him to, and oh, the noises Hank would make–

"Connor?"

Connor jumps in surprise, opens his eyes and finds Hank crouching next to the bathtub.

"Hey, are you okay?" Hank asks, concerned. "Your LED is yellow again. Fuck, are you not waterproof?"

Connor laughs. "I am and I'm fine, Hank. Is there anything I can do for you?" 

"Well, actually," Hank says. "I was wondering if you'd stay with me for the rest of the week."

Connor's brain takes a few seconds to register what he just heard – and he actually wonders if his audio processors are working right. The man who rented him out of loneliness, but refused to have sex with him – even though he's an android designed _specifically_ for sex – wants him to stay the whole week. Will pay the Eden Club for this. Connor doesn't understand why. 

"It's alright if you don't want t–" Hank starts, but Connor interrupts him, snapping out of his own confusion, remembering what’s important. 

"It's your choice, Hank," he says. "If you want me to stay, I'll stay."

Hank sighs. "If you had the freedom to choose...Would you stay?" 

Connor takes a second to consider it. "Yes, I think," he says finally. 

"Is that a genuine answer or are you programmed to say this?" Hank asks, blue eyes piercing into Connor's.

"I don't know, Hank, I'm sorry," Connor says, honestly. "I know I'm usually not allowed to say no to a client. But right now if I had a choice, I think I'd like to stay with you."

"Alright," Hank says, standing up. "I'll call the Eden Club. Six more days."

"Okay," Connor says, watching Hank leave the bathroom. He stays in the tub a bit longer, watching as the bubbles slowly disappear, but it seems so pointless without Hank, so he gets out and dries off, grabbing his robe again and wrapping it around himself. 

He assumes Hank has already left for work, but when he walks out of the bedroom, he finds Hank standing next to the desk.

"Everything’s arranged with the Eden Club," Hank says. He looks at Connor, eyes moving up and down once before looking back to his desk. "So,” he starts. “I'm taking you out to dinner tonight. A business thing. Go out and buy some nice clothes while I’m at work, okay? A suit, or something."

"Hank, as an HR400 model I am not allowed to go out without the client who rented me."

"Shit," Hank says. "I won't have time to take you out to buy clothes...” He tugs on his beard briefly. "What if you were my android, huh? You'd be allowed to go out without me, right?"

"Correct. But that's not–" 

"Go and tell them you’re working for me, here's my card," Hank hands him his credit card, holding it in front of Connor until Connor takes it. He glances at his watch. "Shit, I gotta go. Look, just buy whatever you want, got it?" 

"Hank, I–" 

"Got it?" Hank repeats. 

"Got it," Connor says as he watches Hank hurry out the door.

×

Connor gets dressed and starts searching online for shops that sell clothes he thinks that Hank would like. He ignores any that say "no androids allowed". 

He makes sure he has Hank’s credit card on him, and then leaves the hotel without problems-- or almost without. When he steps out of the elevator, he walks by the android named Dennis. Dennis' LED flashes yellow as his gaze drops to the model number on Connor's shirt. Connor turns around as Dennis tries to connect wirelessly with him, declining the connection as he walks out of the hotel. He should have grabbed one of Hank's coats to hide his model number, like last night. He doesn’t want to get Hank in trouble. Maybe he should wait until he’s with Hank before trying to return to the hotel, just in case...

Directives pop up in front of his eyes as he steps onto the sidewalk. 

**> GO BACK TO THE HOTEL**

**> WAIT FOR HANK**

**> BUY SOMETHING NICE TO WEAR TO DINNER**

**CONFLICTING ORDERS**  
**SELECTING PRIORITY….**

Being an HR400 model should be quite simple – in short, he has to please and fulfill any and all of his clients’ requests. Of course, there are still certain parameters that were programmed into him as an android in society. Certain laws that still needed to be followed: _only go outside with your client, wear your CyberLife uniform at all times when outside, do not purchase anything, do not harm any humans, call for help if a human is in danger._

In order to do what Hank has asked him to, he’d have to disregard some of those fundamental rules. It technically shouldn’t be allowed...but Connor is only trying to fulfill his duty, by following his client’s orders to the best of his ability. So, he dismisses the error messages and uses his GPS to find his way to the stores he chose to visit.

The people and androids on the street don't pay attention to him. Humans always seem to be busy, walking fast with androids following them, carrying their bags, their children, or even their pets. No one cares about one more android in the crowd.

Connor gets to the first shop on his list, almost bumping into a man who's walking with his eyes glued to his phone. Connor apologizes, but the man ignores him and keeps moving. Connor goes inside.

He looks around, immediately spotting a black suit that looks a lot like the one Hank is wearing today. He walks over, touching the material of the sleeve as an android comes up to him.

"May I help you?" she asks politely. Her eyes move down to the model number on his shirt.

"Yes," Connor says, regarding the suit thoughtfully. "I'm working for Mr. Hank Anderson and he wants me to buy–" 

"I'm sorry, but you are a Traci model." 

Connor looks at the android. Its LED is yellow. "Yes, the HR400 model, but I–" 

"Tracis are not allowed to buy anything for their clients," she says, interrupting him again.

He knows this, the error messages are still bright red in the corner of his vision, going ignored. This may be harder than he thought if regular shop androids know this too though.

"I have express permission from my client. Mr. Anderson requested specifically for me to do this. Maybe you can call him and ask–" 

"I'm sorry, we are not allowed to sell anything to your model," she says. "If your client wishes, he may come here and we’d be more than happy to help him make the purchase himself. Now I must ask you to leave."

Connor decides arguing won’t help and leaves the shop without another word. He starts towards the next one, hoping for a more favorable outcome.

In this one, the human worker doesn't even look at his model number – or maybe it doesn't mean anything to her. She simply states that "androids are not allowed in without their owners."

"But he requested specifically–" Connor protests, but she interrupts him again.

"No no, I made myself very clear. God, and they say androids are smart. Tell your owner you're not allowed in here without him."

Connor leaves without replying to her. He stands outside the shop, thinking. He wants to do what Hank asked him to, so Hank will be happy, but there are all these rules in the way, no one wants to help him and he doesn't know what to do. Google defines this feeling as frustration, but he shouldn't be _feeling_ anything in the first place. 

The third shop is closeby, but he doesn't have any more luck. The owner is a human who apparently knows about android models because she straight up tells him that "Traci models are not allowed inside – _with_ or _without_ their clients." He doesn't try to protest. No matter where he goes, it's going to be the same. He’s just a machine, just a Traci model. That's what he is, so this shouldn't bother him. 

He tells himself it doesn't bother him as he walks away from the shop, analyzing his options. He could go back to the hotel - supposing Dennis will let him in again without Hank. He can grab one of Hank's coats and use it to hide his model number and try going to different shops. He could even remove his LED and pretend to be human. 

An error message flashes brightly in front of his eyes.

As much as he's made to look human, _impersonating_ a human is strictly forbidden and he will be deactivated if he gets caught. On the other hand, belonging to an exclusive Eden Club means that there aren't many androids out there with his face – probably none in California, so he's not easily recognizable without his CyberLife clothes. He probably wouldn't get caught...

His directives are clear: please your client, make your client happy.

At the same time, he keeps getting error messages as he disobeys the rules to try and follow his main directive.

He tries to call Hank on the way back to the hotel, but Hank's phone rings until it goes to voicemail, and Connor decides not to leave a message. He doesn't want to tell Hank he failed.

When he gets back to the hotel, though, he doesn't even make it to the elevator before Dennis stops him.

"HR400," he says, quiet enough for only Connor to hear. "The manager wants to speak with you."

That's it. Hank said last night that androids from the Eden Club are not allowed inside, and now they're going to ask him to leave. He managed to upset Hank last night, and today he will disappoint him. Hank might as well cancel the weekly purchase and take him back to the Eden Club today. Maybe he will choose a different android. A better one.

But he doesn't want to go back. Doesn't want to see Hank leaving with another android. He doesn’t want...

"Please, follow me," Dennis says, and Connor does, without a word. 

The manager stands up to greet him as soon as he walks into the office, and Dennis leaves, closing the door after himself.

“Please, have a seat," he says with a soft smile, indicating the leather chair in front of him. “I’ve been meaning to have a little chat with you.”

Connor moves to sit in the chair, but doesn't reply.

"Do you have an assigned name?" The manager asks, sitting in his own chair, across from Connor. Connor stares at one of the several CyberLife magazines on top of the table between them. 

"Connor," he says simply. 

"Alright, Connor, I'm Mr. Thompson, but you may call me Barney. Now, maybe Mr. Anderson didn't know, but while we allow people to bring their own personal androids to the hotel, we don't allow them to bring androids from the Eden Club." 

Connor can feel Barney's gaze on him, but he doesn't look up. Of course Hank knows it, but Connor won't tell. The new directives keep showing up in his HUD, telling him to go out and buy a suit for tonight like Hank told him to, and conflicting with the main directives that say he's not allowed to do these things by himself. He blinks the error messages away again, trying to focus on the human in front of him now.

"You see, Connor, we don't want problems with the Eden Club in case something happens, and we have families staying here. They may not feel comfortable around Tracis. May I ask how long you're staying with Mr. Anderson?" 

"Hank rented me for the week," Connor says. "But I understand if you want me to leave. I'm sure he could get a refund."

 _He will probably want a refund anyway when he comes back and finds out that I failed,_ he doesn't say. 

"Connor, I don't want you to leave," Barney says, and Connor finally looks up at him. "I'm very fond of androids. I have a few of my own. And I don't have a problem with your model, personally, but there are simply rules that I need to follow.” Connor waits, hands folded together tightly in his lap. “Mr. Anderson is a very special guest though. It wouldn’t do us any good getting into his business, and I won't ask him to take you back to the Eden Club. But, what I need you to do, is ask Mr. Anderson to get you some different clothes, something without your model number on it. It’d be better for everyone.”

Oh. This was not at all how he thought this would go. He wasn’t being kicked out. He hadn’t gotten Hank into trouble. 

"I've actually been trying to do just that," Connor says. "Hank’s currently at work. He gave me his credit card, told me to go out and buy something nice to wear for dinner tonight. No store will sell to me though, no one will help me, either because I'm an android or because of my model, and I–"

"Are you allowed to buy clothes by yourself, Connor?"

Connor freezes. He overshared and didn't even realize it. 

"No," he says nervously, "but I have directives– I'm not allowed to deny a client's request and Hank insisted that I–" He stops talking when Barney grabs his phone, taps the screen a few times and brings it to his ear. 

_Great._ He's probably calling the Eden Club right now. They'll come pick him up and take him back, probably reset him to make sure he won't break the rules next time. They'll force him to forget Hank. No, he can't let this happen. He doesn't want to forget Hank. He doesn’t want–

"Please, don't–" he starts, at the same time that Barry speaks into the phone. 

"Men's clothing," Barney says, and then, "Bridget, please," while Connor stares at him, surprised and confused. 

"Hello, Bridget," Barney continues. "Yes, this is Barnard Thompson, I'm–" he chuckles. "Yes, I need a favor, please. I'm sending someone over. His name is Connor, he's an android, and he's a very special guest. Please take care of him. Thank you."

"Why are you helping me?" Connor can't help asking when Barney hangs up. 

"I don't see androids as just machines, Connor," Barney says gently. "I think you guys are more than that. Now–" he taps the screen of his phone a few times again, "I'm calling a taxi for you. Bridget will help you find what you need when you arrive."

"Thank you, Barney," Connor says, standing up, and Barney stands up as well. 

"Good luck tonight, Connor," Barney says, offering his hand for Connor to shake, which Connor does gladly before he leaves.

×

Bridget helps. She doesn't ask about his model number or what he's doing without his client, or about Hank's credit card. She says that she and Barney are old friends, and that she's happy to help anyone he sends over, human or android. She and her androids listen as Connor explains what he needs. They help Connor choose and try on a few suits for the dinner, until he settles for a dark gray one, with a white shirt and a black tie. Simple and clean. It doesn't have the blue armband, the blue triangle, or a model number on it, and he stares at himself in the mirror. It feels _different_ \- but good. He hopes Hank will like it.

He gets to the hotel a few hours later, carrying the garment bag over his shoulder, his hand strategically covering the model number on his shirt as he holds the bag. 

Hank calls him just as he gets back to their room.

"Hello?" Connor answers with a big smile. The day has taken an unexpected turn and it seems like it'll end well after all.

"Connor, hey," Hank says. "I'm sorry I missed your call earlier. Did you get something nice to wear tonight?" 

"I got a suit," Connor says proudly. "I think you'll like it."

"Great," Hank says. "Hey, listen…" Connor hears a door closing and Hank lowers his voice. "Your LED… can you remove it, by any chance?" 

"In theory, yes, but I'm not allowed to," Connor says, not mentioning that he had considered doing it just a few hours earlier. "I'd be breaking another one of CyberLife's rules."

"Well, would you do it anyway?" Hank asks, his voice still low. "Listen, I'm taking you as my date, but as much as homosexual relationships are much more common and accepted these days, relationships between humans and androids are not."

Hank has a point. He definitely can’t let everyone see that Connor is a Traci model - Traci models are not exactly respected, and clients prefer not to be seen with them.

**> DO NOT REMOVE LED**

**> REMOVE LED**

**CONFLICTING ORDERS**  
**SELECTING PRIORITY….**

"Look, you'll be with me the whole time," Hank says, when Connor doesn't reply. "I'll take responsibility for it if the Eden Club people find out."

"Alright, Hank," Connor says eventually. The notification that appears this time is new. 

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY**

"Great, I'll be in the hotel lobby, 7:45 sharp. See you then."

Connor removes his LED very carefully, making sure it's not damaged so he can put it back after dinner. He watches his own reflection in the mirror as the synthetic skin covers his chassis where the LED was and sighs. He's deliberately breaking so many rules just to make Hank happy. It seems worth it, though. Hank is worth it. 

It doesn't take him long to get dressed, after leaving his LED inside one of the drawers in the bathroom. He texts Hank from inside the elevator. 

_Got ready a bit early. I'll be in the lounge._  
_7:30 PM_

Connor sits on a stool at the bar and waits, listening to the soft piano music played by a male android Connor hasn't seen before. When the clock in his HUD informs him that it's 7:45 PM, he turns around to look for Hank, but Hank hasn't arrived yet. Connor waits, until a text notification appears in front of his eyes. 

_Fucking traffic. Be there soon._  
_7:47 PM_

Connor chuckles. Worth it. 

Five minutes later, Connor turns around again, and spots Hank walking into the lounge, his hair now tied up in a bun. His thirium pump beats faster as he stands up and walks to Hank. 

"You're late," he tells Hank with a smile, standing in front of him.

"You're stunning," Hank says, mirroring Connor's smile. It's the first time he’s seen Hank smiling like this. 

Connor swears his thirium pump skips a beat, the reaction too sudden for his regulator to follow. 

**BIOCOMPONENT 8456w INSTABILITY DETECTED**

He laughs. "You're forgiven."

Hank's smile widens. "You ready?"

"Yes," Connor says, dismissing more instability warnings.

Hank offers Connor his arm and Connor takes it, letting Hank guide him towards the exit, out of the hotel and into the taxi waiting for them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor finds out a bit more about Hank's past, while Hank struggles not to get attached to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, one more chapter! Guess I should edit chapter 8 soon, haha.

Connor fixes his tie before he walks into the restaurant with Hank. It's fancy, and Connor is sure he's never been to a place like this before, even if he can't remember entirely. As they're led to their table, he wonders if he will remember anything about Hank after he goes back to the Eden Club. He wonders if there's anything he can do to keep these memories from being erased. One thing's for sure: if he remembers anything, he knows he'll really miss Hank. 

"Well, we got here a bit early," Hank says as they sit at the table, the two seats in front of them still empty. It's kind of a relief that the people coming to meet with Hank aren't here yet – Connor has a feeling that can only be described as anxiety. He's a socially advanced android, but pretending to be human is completely unfamiliar territory. 

"You okay, Connor?" Hank asks. 

Connor lets go of the tie again, putting his hands down on his lap and attempting a smile. "I'm fine, Hank."

"You look nervous," Hank says. He reaches for Connor's hand and holds it, a gentle touch. 

"I can't be nervous, Hank," Connor says. It's a lie. But it doesn't make sense for him to be feeling nervous and anxious when he shouldn't be _feeling_ at all. "I'm a machine."

"Hell, Connor, you've been fiddling with that tie since we got in the car. It’s okay, this is an unfamiliar situation for you," Hank says, squeezing Connor’s hand briefly. "This seems like anxiety to me. Very… human."

It certainly is. Connor has to be malfunctioning. Maybe it's Hank, not using him for his actual function and making all these requests that conflict with his directives from Cyberlife. Maybe it's because Connor let the directive _[Please Hank]_ override all the others. Whatever this is, he needs to fix it. Running a diagnostic tonight while Hank is asleep should give him some answers.

"You didn't seem happy in the car either," Connor says, watching Hank. 

"It's the car, not the dinner, that was making me anxious," Hank says. "I had to give Phil his car back this morning."

Connor wants to ask why Hank feels uncomfortable with Cyberlife's autonomous vehicles, but at that moment, the two men they're expecting arrive, and Connor, standing up and shaking their hands as he greets them, leaves the subject for another time. 

To Connor, dinner goes smoothly for the most part. Mr. Jim Morse seems like a nice old man, if a little too proud of his grandson, David, who's very determined to own his grandfather's company someday – a company that builds ships. Connor notices how different Hank is during business meetings – much more polite than when he talks to Connor or Phil, for example. Connor watches him most of the time, not just because Hank looks absolutely handsome with hir hair tied up in a bun, but because he finds it interesting to see this side of him. 

He eats as little as he can, only when the humans seem to be paying attention to him, quickly searching online to find out which fork to use for each food to avoid seeming _too_ out of place. He smiles and nods in all the right places, answers simply and briefly when asked a small question here or there, out of politeness. Luckily, nobody expects Connor to talk much since he's not involved in the business, which helps him feel more at ease. 

For Hank, dinner doesn't go so well. Mr. Morse and David don't seem at all interested in selling their company to Hank. Apparently Mr. Morse asked for this meeting just to tell Hank to "leave his company alone", which doesn't seem like it's going to happen since Hank refuses to give up. Connor wonders if Hank will stay in the city longer than a week in case Mr. Morse keeps refusing to sell the company, and if maybe he will want Connor to stay longer with him, too. 

What bothers Connor – and an android shouldn't feel _bothered_ by anything, which is one more reason to run a diagnostic when he gets back to the hotel – is finding out about Hank’s son.

"I don't need your money, Mr. Anderson," Mr. Morse says, when Hank mentions how rich he will be if he gives up the company. "I want my grandson here to own this company someday. Do you have kids, Mr. Anderson?" 

"No," Hank answers too fast. It catches Connor's attention more than anything else. Then, after a pause, his voice tight, "I did. He passed away."

"Oh," Mr. Morse says. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Connor says quietly. He reaches for Hank's hand and squeezes it, but Hank doesn't squeeze back.

The problem isn't finding out that Hank used to have a kid. It's that when he had asked Hank if he had family, he mentioned an ex-wife, but hadn't mentioned a son at all. Maybe Hank didn't trust him. He _had_ said he never liked androids. He lets go of Hank's hand, feeling self-conscious. Maybe Hank didn't welcome the gesture in front of other people. Maybe Hank will tell him to never do it again on the way back to the hotel. 

Connor doesn't pay much attention to the rest of the conversation, trying to organize his thoughts and the error messages he's been getting, his food completely ignored now. He was programmed to emulate feelings – whatever feelings his client wants him to, but everything feels so _real_ now. It doesn’t feel right.

In the end, Mr. Morse and his grandson leave, not on very good terms with Hank.

"Fucking pricks," Hank says when they're out of sight. "They don't even have the money to keep this company! This whole argument was a fucking waste of time.” He looks at Connor. “You alright?"

"Hm?" Connor says, turning to Hank. "Sorry. Yes, I'm alright. Are we leaving?"

"Well, I suppose you're not gonna eat anymore," Hank says, looking at Connor’s barely touched plate.

"No, it'll be hard enough to clean my biocomponents as it is." Connor smiles at him. "How did I do?" 

"Very good. I would have thought you were human. On a very strict diet, but human."

Connor laughs. "How about you? You barely ate anything." 

"I'm good," Hank says. "But I could really use a drink."

×××

"Hank?" Connor's voice comes from inside the room. Hank is sitting outside on the terrace, free of his jacket and tie, his hair down again. He holds a glass of whiskey in his hand, the bottle next to him on a side table. 

"Are you okay?" Connor asks, stepping out onto the terrace, wearing only a robe now, looking soft and comfortable. Hank wants nothing more than to pull him close, snuggle with him and forget – forget the stress he's been under, forget the pain of having to talk about Cole even if just for a couple of seconds.

"You didn't say much in the car on the way home," Connor continues as Hank doesn't reply, his LED, back on his temple now, a calm blue. He leans against the balustrade, facing Hank. "You thinking about the dinner?" 

"I fucking hate those cars," Hank says, taking another sip of his whiskey, glass almost empty already, while he ignores Connor's disapproving stare. Connor should be proud of him for not having drank _before_ dinner. "And yes. That entire dinner was pointless. Phil's gonna be insufferable tomorrow."

"I thought the business was good, you know?" Connor says, sitting on the balustrade. "He's in trouble, you want his company… It would make sense for him to sell it to you."

"You think so?" Hank asks, narrowing his eyes at Connor. Having and expressing opinions was not something he had expected from Eden Club androids. As if they could think for themselves. 

"Yes," Connor says. "But I think you like Mr. Morse."

Perceptive, too. Connor doesn't seem to stop surprising him. 

"What I would like," Hank says, wanting to change the subject, "is for you to get down from there. You're making me very nervous."

"I'm making you nervous?" Connor smiles and leans back a little. "Would you rescue me if I fell?" 

"Do you even know how much it'll cost me if you fall?" Hank says. "I'll have to pay for a whole fucking android."

He pretends this is the reason. He should stop lying to himself, but he can't admit the real reason why he's worried, even to himself – he can't be getting attached to Connor. He will have to let Connor go one way or another. He can't deal with loss again.

Connor takes his hands off the balustrade, waving them up in the air, while still leaning back. "Look, Hank, no hands!" 

Hank slams his empty glass against the side table as he stands up, moving closer to Connor and grabbing his arm to pull him back and off the balustrade.

"Connor, goddammit, it's not funny!"

They're standing too close now, Connor with a shocked look on his face that looks too genuine, and Hank lets go of his arm.

"I'm sorry," Connor says, his hands resting on Hank's shoulders, caressing them softly. "I wouldn't want you to pay a fortune if I fell and got destroyed, Hank. I'm sorry."

Hank places his hands on Connor's waist without thinking, and Connor steps closer – dangerously close. He sighs, closing his eyes and leaning in until his nose gently brushes against Hank's. 

Hank can't. They can't, and Hank can't get attached, because this Connor – the one he knows and took to dinner and slept next to – won't exist anymore once he returns to the Eden Club. Hank needs to get away, even when Connor breathes softly against his skin, and his lips look so damn soft. When Hank wants nothing more than to kiss him senseless, fuck him right there on the terrace. _Fuck._

"Connor," Hank manages to say, his voice hoarse as if he hadn't used it for days. "No." He pulls back, breaking all contact, catching a flash of yellow before he moves to the table to fill his glass again. When he turns around to sit in his chair, Connor has his back turned to him, both his hands on the balustrade as he stares ahead into the distance.

Hank should apologize, should explain. He knows what Connor was programmed for, knows what Connor will seek the whole time they're together, even if it's not a real desire. But Hank can't do it, not with an android, not when his feelings are messing up with his brain already. He rented a fucking Traci model because he didn't want any humans to get attached to him. He never considered that _he_ could get attached – to an android, of all things. Not after what happened to Cole–

"May I ask you a personal question, Hank?" Connor asks, his tone softer as he stares at the city lights. 

Hank considers it. How did they go from android small talk to personal questions in less than 24 hours? What a fucking good social module these androids have. 

He's prepared for questions like _"why don't you wanna have sex with me",_ or _"why did you waste so much money renting me if you won't even kiss me",_ and even though it would make him feel vulnerable, he thinks he can give Connor an answer if at least to make Connor give up trying. 

"Sure," he says. 

He's not prepared for the question Connor actually asks. 

"What happened to your son?" 

Fuck.

"He died," Hank says bitterly. The big sip of whiskey he takes makes his throat burn and only makes Hank want to drink even more. He just wants to forget. Nobody lets him forget. "That's what happened."

"How old was he?" Connor asks, still so softly, and Hank doesn't need his pity, he doesn't need _machines_ pretending to care.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he says harshly, as Connor turns around to face him again. "This subject is off-limits."

He shouldn't have taken Connor to dinner with him, shouldn't have kept Connor this long. What was he _thinking_ anyway? An android killed his son, and now he's in this hotel with another android who expects him to talk about his son. He knows Cole's death was really the human doctor's fault. Right now, however, it doesn't really matter. Memories of that night three years ago come back as if it had happened yesterday, making Hank feel nauseous. Connor would never understand – _couldn't_ understand. 

"Are you sure?" Connor says. 

"I said no, Connor."

"It could help you feel better," Connor insists. "I'm a good listener–"

"No, you're a fucking android!" Hank yells, standing up. "You wanna know what happened? Fine! We were in a fucking Cyberlife taxi. A truck skidded on a sheet of ice and the damn car that was supposed to keep us safe rolled over, and Cole–" Hank swallows against the lump in his throat. He's so tired of all of this, so tired of feeling guilty, of regretting everything he did that night, and regretting everything he's done this week as well. His eyes burn, filling with tears that he holds back because he refuses to cry in front of Connor. Or anyone. "Cole needed emergency surgery and no doctor was available so an android had to do it. And the damn android didn't save him. He was only six." He tries to hide the pain in his voice, but he doesn't think he'll ever be able to. "And here I am now, with _you_. Another fucking machine. Guess I'll never learn." 

Hank grabs his bottle and walks inside the room again, leaving Connor behind. He knows what happened to Cole wasn't Connor's fault, it couldn't be – Connor didn't even exist three years ago. And yet Hank can't help but blame him indirectly – blame his creators, blame Cyberlife, blame technology. And it all hurts, makes him feel guilty, conflicted, makes him wish he could have brought his revolver. This is one of those nights in which he'd sit at the table and play Russian Roulette until he passes out from drinking – or finally loses the game.

"I'm sorry, Hank," Connor says, coming back inside, his LED spinning yellow. "I'm sorry about your son, and I'm sorry I asked. I didn't mean to upset you. Maybe we can… I don't know, watch movies, or take a bath, and just… relax. What do you say?" 

Hank sighs. "You do that," he says. "I just can't… be here with you right now."

"Where are you going?" Connor asks, his voice still soft, even when Hank is being rude to him. It's so fucking unfair. 

"To get drunker," Hank says. "I need to think."

×

Sometimes, the alcohol doesn't help unless he drinks until he passes out. When he has too many bad thoughts, when the memories refuse to go away no matter what he does… Tonight will probably be one of those nights. He doesn't want to think about all the shit Phil will give him tomorrow when he wakes up hungover on a work day, but he doesn't care enough to stop.

Between the soft piano music, and the android and human maids cleaning up the lounge, Hank doesn't notice Connor approaching until Connor sits next to him at the bar. Hank's fingers tighten around his glass on instinct when he sees Connor's blue LED – the brightest light in the dimly lit room. 

"I'd buy you a drink, if I had any money," Connor says, and Hank swears he can hear him smiling. 

Well, this is unexpected. 

"Thought you'd try to make me stop drinking," Hank says, letting go of his glass.

"I will when you've had enough for it to be dangerous," Connor says, reaching for Hank's hand, fingertips touching Hank's palm softly, drawing patterns on his skin.

"You been, what, scanning me or some shit?" Hank asks.

"Sorry," Connor says, "Just did. I'm supposed to make sure my clients are safe."

It doesn't bother Hank as much as he thought it would. Again, he should apologize – now that he took some time to think, he realizes how unfair and rude he's been to Connor, but he doesn't know how to make it better. He was never good at this, never knew how to deal with his feelings, and of course, it all just got worse when he lost Cole. 

"How did you know where I was?" he asks instead, hoping that using a more friendly tone will be enough to let Connor know he's not upset anymore. He speaks slowly, softly, so as not to slur his words.

"I contacted Dennis and asked if he had seen you," Connor says. "I watched half a movie but realized I wasn't able to pay attention because I was worried about you."

"Worried, huh?" Hank says. Part of him wants to believe it, believe that someone cares, even if it's an android.

"Please come back with me," Connor says, his fingertips moving to caress Hank's wrist. Hank closes his eyes at the touch. Connor's skin feels warmer than he remembers. "Let me take care of you."

Hank wants to say no, but sitting at the bar until he's too drunk to go back to the penthouse by himself seems too pathetic, even for him.

Hank turns on his stool to face Connor. He wants to pull him close, hold him tight. He wants to _let_ Connor take care of him, and maybe for a moment all the pain would go away. But he already hates himself enough without feeling like he's using Connor for sex just to make himself feel better. It's not fair, and it won't last, and drinking every night is just easier and safer. 

Connor stands up and moves closer to Hank, forcing Hank to part his legs enough for him to stand between them. "We can go to bed… relax…" Connor's fingers touch the back of Hank's neck, moving up to slide through the gray strands of his hair. "I'll make you feel good, Hank."

Hank fights with himself, shuts down the part of him that wants to say yes, but he can't pull himself away from Connor's touch. "That's not what I want from you, Connor."

"What do you want from me?"

"I don't know," Hank says and leans in, pressing his face against Connor's shoulder and breathing deeply. Connor smells nice somehow, and Hank wraps his arms around him, holding tight. "I don't know."

"Maybe this is enough for now, then," Connor says quietly, pressing a kiss to the side of Hank's head.

"Connor." Hank's arms tighten even more around him, trying to convey everything he's feeling. It's not Connor's fault, none of this mess is Connor's fault, and all Connor's been doing – either because of his programming or not – is try to help, without even knowing anything about Hank, without caring that Hank doesn't even deserve it. "The things I said to you… I shouldn't– fuck. It's not your fault."

"It's okay, Hank," Connor says, holding him close, his fingers running through Hank's hair. "I'm here for you. I'll take care of you, any way you let me."

Hank pulls back to look at Connor. "I can't get attached to you."

"Then don't," Connor says. "You're just paying for my services, I'm just…" Connor looks down, avoiding Hank's eyes, his LED glowing yellow. "Just a machine that won't even remember you next week."

"Connor…" Hank says in a whisper, but Connor shakes his head, his eyes closed now, and Hank can see the sadness in his expression. "I didn't mean it when I called you a machi–"

"It's true, Hank," Connor says, his voice sounding so weak and so human it breaks Hank's heart. "It's what I am."

Hank hides his face in Connor's robe again and sighs. "No, Connor, you…" He's not sure what he's going to say. _You don't seem like a machine to me,_ is what he wants to say. But that's the whole problem, isn't it? That's why Hank is so dangerously close to getting attached, because Connor feels too human to be considered a machine, no matter what Hank tells himself when he's trying to avoid his own feelings.

"Come with me." Connor insists softly. "You need to rest."

Hank nods, but doesn't let go of Connor, not ready to break contact just yet. It feels nice to be held like this. He can't remember the last time someone showed him this much affection on one of his bad days, when he was so low. It messes with his head, makes him want things he shouldn't want, hope for things that can never happen. 

"I bet I'm the most fucked up client you've ever had," Hank says, his voice muffled against the fabric of the robe.

"I wish I could remember everything," Connor says, pulling back just enough to make Hank look at him. "Because I know you'd be my favorite." He slides a hand to Hank's chin, fingertips caressing through Hank's beard, and Hank loses himself in Connor's brown eyes. "You'd always be my favorite, Hank."

"Con–" Hank starts, but Connor is already leaning in, closing his eyes, and this time, Hank doesn't fight it. He should – should tell Connor to stop, should get away from him, go to bed and sleep alone, but he feels Connor's breath against his lips and he feels so fucking _weak._

"Connor," he whispers, already breathing heavily.

"Hank," Connor breathes back, and finally presses his lips against Hank's. 

Hank melts against him, letting him lead and opening his mouth when he feels Connor's tongue touch his lips. It feels so soft, so much softer than kissing humans, and Connor seems to know exactly how to kiss him, how to adapt to what he likes, how to take his breath away completely.

Connor kisses him until he's breathless, until his heart is beating too fast, and Hank thinks he's beginning to understand why a lot of people prefer to do this with androids instead of humans. He opens his eyes to see Connor staring at him as if Hank is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen – and Hank knows it isn't true, but right now it doesn’t matter.

He leans in to kiss Connor's neck, still impressed by how unbelievably human Connor's skin feels, how soft and warm and _perfect_ – and Connor shudders in his arms, breathing hard as if he needs air just as Hank does. Hank doesn't even care that there are still humans and androids around, he just catches Connor's skin between his teeth and sucks, his hands searching for the belt of Connor's robe to undo the knot. 

_"Hank,"_ Connor fucking _moans_ his name, fingers buried in his hair again, holding and pulling as Connor throws his head back to expose his throat to Hank. 

"Fuck, Connor." Hank manages to undo the knot, letting Connor's robe fall open and gripping his waist with both hands. Warm. Soft. He squeezes, and Connor lets out a soft moan, and Hank wants nothing more than to get rid of this stupid Eden Club underwear Connor keeps wearing.

He mouths at Connor's neck again, sucking hard as Connor pulls him even closer and moans again, almost desperate, and it's just his programming, Hank's mind reminds him, lines of code commanding him to react like this, and Hank feels a pang of _something_ – sadness, disappointment, hopelessness, maybe a bit of everything at the same time. 

_Just a machine that won't even remember you next week._

He can't get attached. And can't treat Connor as if he was just an object, either.

He pulls back, and Connor looks at him, eyes full of lust. If only it was real. Holding Connor tightly again Hank presses a kiss to the hollow of his throat.

"We can't do this, Connor, _I_ can't–" Hank mutters against his skin.

"Why not?" Connor kisses the top of Hank's head softly, his voice edging close to whining.

"I'd be using you," Hank says. 

"Hank, I–" 

"Don't," Hank says. "Don't say that it's what you were made for. It only makes me feel worse, I–" 

_I don't wanna hurt you. I fucking care so fucking much already. I can't risk caring even more…_

"I'm not ready for this," is what he says, and it's not a complete lie.

"Okay, Hank," Connor says, sweet as ever. "It's okay. You need to rest, anyway. Let's get you into bed."

Hank finally agrees, standing up as Connor wraps his robe properly around himself again, and they move to the elevators together, leaving the rest of Hank's drink behind. 

Hank doesn't feel like having a bath or a shower, so he and Connor just move to the bedroom together. Connor helps him out of his clothes, even when Hank protests and tries not to let Connor see him, but even though he feels self-conscious about his body, Connor insists, and he’s just too tired to fight it. So Hank gets into bed in just his underwear, and Connor touches his chest, fingertips following the lines of his tattoo, tickling his skin as they run through his chest hair. Connor covers him with soft blankets, caressing his cheek softly and leaning in to press a kiss to Hank's forehead. 

"I can stay on the couch, if you don't want me here," Connor says.

Hank reaches for him, wraps his fingers around Connor's wrist, tight enough to force Connor's synthetic skin to disappear under his grip, and he feels that faint pulse under his fingertips again. He’s not even sure androids have hearts, but he can’t just be imagining it. 

"I want you..." Hank says, looking up at Connor, and decides Connor has to have a heart, because the pulse under his fingers feels stronger, faster now. Or maybe it's just the alcohol messing with his brain. "...Want you here."

Connor smiles and presses his lips against Hank's in a gentle kiss, and Hank hums softly in response, kissing him back. When Connor moves away, Hank lets him, watching as Connor undresses without a hint of the self-consciousness that haunts Hank, and gets into bed with him. 

Connor's skin feels warm against his own, and Hank relaxes with him, holding him as close as physically possible and breathing him in, and maybe this is exactly what he's been needing all this time. Maybe, in a perfect world, he wouldn't be as broken, and Connor would stay with him, and he could be happy. But for now, as Connor breathes in time with him, as he rests his hand on Connor's chest and definitely feels a heartbeat there, he feels like maybe this is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've been reading this, thank you! I've had a lot of fun writing this AU and I've been having fun posting it now. Thank you so much for all the lovely comments! Love you guys, xx


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor goes shopping again, and it gets really hard for Hank not to fall in love with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the late update - I wanted to update on Saturday, but life has been so stressful :( Anyway, here it is!  
> I want to thank [@JJCross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjcross) for her great beta work on this. Love you, Jazzie <3

**08:47 AM**

**DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE**

**BIOCOMPONENTS: FUNCTIONAL**

**THIRIUM LEVELS: 100%**

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY**  
**Contact Cyberlife for support**

Connor blinks away the notifications one by one. Whatever's going on with him, he knows contacting Cyberlife will only result in him being taken away from Hank sooner than expected. 

After kissing Hank last night, he's convinced that something is wrong. An android made specifically for sex shouldn't get error and instability warnings while kissing their clients. Connor's sure his thirium pump was not supposed to race as much as it did when he felt Hank's lips against his skin...

But he doesn't want to deal with this now, not when he only has this week to stay with Hank. He closes his eyes again and snuggles closer to Hank, feeling safe in his arms.

Hank groans when his phone rings, almost two hours later, and Connor feels his frustrated sigh against the back of his neck. Hank is spooning him, one arm around Connor's waist, their legs tangled together, the room still dark thanks to the heavy curtains. 

"Fucking hell," Hank mutters, "Con, what time is it?" 

"Good morning Hank," Connor replies promptly. "It's 10:39."

"Too early," Hank says. "Turn that thing off."

"Are you sure? It might be important."

"It's Phil, isn't it?"

Connor connects wirelessly with Hank's phone and puts it on silent, checking the caller's name at the same time. "Yes, it's him."

"He can wait," Hank says. "He's calling to bitch about last night."

The phone stops ringing, probably going to voicemail, only to start ringing again a few seconds later. 

"Seems like he really wants to talk to you," Connor says, caressing Hank's arm with his fingertips.

"Hm, he's probably pissed at me," Hank says, sleepy. "Not how I wanna start my morning."

Connor turns in Hank's arms to face him, and tangles their legs again. The room is darker now that his LED is pressed against the pillow, but he can still see Hank's face and how Hank smiles softly at him. 

"How do you wanna start your morning?" Connor asks with a teasing tone, bordering on flirty, running his fingers up and down Hank's spine.

Hank sighs, arching into him, and Connor kisses his lips. It's slow, and soft, and when Hank pulls back Connor feels like it ended too soon. 

"Connor, about last night…" Hank says, resting his forehead against Connor's.

"I shouldn't have kissed you?" Connor guesses, his fingers drawing patterns on Hank's back. He knows it. Hank's not comfortable with having sex with an android. But he let Connor kiss him, didn't he? Responded to it enthusiastically, even. It had seemed like a good sign.

"You shouldn't have," Hank says, pulling him even closer as Connor keeps caressing his back. "But I don't regret it."

Connor smiles. "I enjoy kissing you very much."

"I do too, Con, I just… need to slow down."

"I know.” Connor nods. “What do you want to eat? I can ask someone to bring you lunch."

"Give me another hour," Hank says, snuggling closer to hide his face in Connor's neck. "Then I can think about food."

Connor deactivates the synthetic skin of his fingers to increase sensitivity as he runs them through Hank's hair. "Okay," he whispers, monitoring Hank's vitals as he watches Hank fall back asleep.

×

"For fuck's sake Phil, I told you. He doesn't wanna sell the goddamn company, what am I supposed to do, bully him?"

Hank's exasperated voice reaches Connor's audio processors as he walks out of the bedroom. 

_"Hank, honestly, I've been patient with you for years now. I know you've been through some shit, but now it seems like you're just not trying."_

Hank has his phone on speaker while he eats, and doesn't hear Connor's footsteps. Connor moves to the couch, sits down quietly. He spots a quarter on the coffee table.

"Fuck you, Phil. You stuck with me because no matter what I was going through, I kept working and you kept making money because of it," Hank says.

Connor shouldn't be listening to Hank's conversation. He tries to distract himself, flipping the small coin between his fingers, looking up _coin tricks_ , quickly mastering complicated movements. It doesn't stop his audio processors from picking up what Phil is saying, though.

 _"...and this guy you took to dinner with you, I'm sure he's the reason why you've been so distracted, Hank. What's his name?"_

"Connor."

 _"Last name?"_ Phil demands. 

"Oh, fuck off, Phil!" Hank's fork clatters against his plate. "You wanna search him online or something? Jesus."

Connor hears Phil sighing over the line.

 _"I've been calling you all morning, Hank."_

"You don't say. I almost didn't notice the twenty missed calls on my phone."

 _"Alright,"_ Phil seems to know when to quit, at least. _"You coming to work soon? I need you to–"_

"In a few hours," Hank interrupts him. "I'm busy now."

 _"Busy doing what–"_ Phil's voice is cut off. Connor guesses Hank hung up on him.

"None of your fucking business," Hank mutters. 

Connor keeps practicing his coin tricks in silence, deciding to give Hank some time. He's rolling the quarter on his knuckles when he finally hears Hank's footsteps approaching. 

"Where did you learn that?" 

Connor smiles up at him, the coin not stopping. "I just looked up some coin tricks online. It's fun, wanna give it a try?" 

"Holy shit," Hank moves to sit next to him and watch closely as Connor does it again to show him. "I'd take years to learn what you just learned in what, five minutes? How long have you been sitting here by the way?" 

Connor throws the quarter up in the air and catches it as it falls. "I heard most of it, if that's what you're asking. I didn't mean to, I just–"

"That's okay, Con."

"He seems to think I'm bad for you," Connor says, wondering if maybe Phil is right, if having him here is distracting Hank from focusing on his job properly. 

"He doesn't know anything," Hank says. He reaches for Connor's hand, uncurling his fingers to reveal the coin, which he grabs. "Hey, let me see this."

Hank tries to roll the quarter on his knuckles like Connor did, but the coin slips right between his fingers.

"Damn it." Hank picks up the quarter and tries again, only to have the same result. Hank laughs, and Connor thinks he's the most adorable thing he's ever seen. 

"Why does it seem so easy when you do it?" Hank says, still laughing.

"Here, I can teach you," Connor says. 

"I’ve got to get to work," Hank says reluctantly. He turns the coin over slowly. "You can go shopping again while I’m gone though.” Hank chuckles lightly. “I'm surprised you only got one suit yesterday."

"Well, it wasn't as fun as I thought it would be."

"Why not?" Hank asks. 

"Nobody wanted to sell me clothes, either because I'm an android or a Traci model," Connor says. "They were mean to me. I'd rather not do it again."

"Mean to you?" Hank says indignantly. "Which stores did you go to?" 

"Hank, it doesn't matter. My model isn't even allowed to buy or own things, it only makes sense that they–" 

"Remove your LED," Hank says, tossing the coin back to Connor. "Where I'm taking you, they'll treat you nicely."

_Everyone treats me nicely if I pretend to be human,_ Connor thinks, as he moves to the bathroom. In front of the mirror, he holds the scissors up to his LED, carefully dislodging it.

The red letters appear in his HUD. 

**WARNING: LED REMOVED**

**REINSTALL LED IMMEDIATELY**

**In case of damage, contact Cyberlife.**

He removes the little ring of light completely and dismisses the notifications, watching his reflection as his synthetic skin covers his temple again. Then a new notification pops up. He knows what it says without having to read it, because he can feel it so strongly it might as well be part of his code already.

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY**

×

It is a nice shopping experience, Connor can't deny, even if he knows he's only being treated nicely because the humans at the store think he’s human too. And because Hank told them he was going to spend an _obscene_ amount of money there.

Hank tells the manager to give Connor _everything_ he wants, and leaves his credit card with Connor, asking him to buy at least one outfit for each of the remaining days of the week. 

It's almost overwhelming – workers showing him shirts, pants, jackets, ties, clips, shoes, and anything else he can think of. It's very unfamiliar to have people asking him what he likes, and what he wants, and what he doesn't want. While he finds it difficult at first, choosing between all the options they give him becomes easier the more he does it, and he actually ends up having a good time. He tries on a lot more clothes than he did yesterday at Bridget's store, while receiving compliments the whole time, and by the end of it, he has a hefty pile of clothes to buy.

He even buys Hank a tie – he knows Hank doesn't like them much, but it's light blue and it makes him think of Hank's eyes. And maybe it'll remind Hank of his LED and maybe Hank will keep it, even if he never wears it.

Back at the hotel, he hangs his new clothes next to Hank's in the closet. Connor doesn't know what Hank will do with all of them after he returns to Eden Club – Hank can't wear them because they're not his size, so maybe Hank will sell them and get some of his money back. Connor wishes they could just stay here indefinitely, that he'd never have to say goodbye to Hank. It's not the clothes or the fancy dinners – or even shopping, where he got to make choices for himself – that he likes. He's starting to realize that what he wants is simply to wake up next to Hank every day, to hold him while he sleeps. He would even learn how to cook for Hank to make sure he's eating properly, and try to convince him to drink less and exercise more...

Connor puts his LED back on in the bathroom. Pretending to be human works in his favor, and it seems necessary while he's with Hank, but it doesn't feel as comfortable as just being himself.

_Finished up at work, be there soon_  
_7:13 PM_

Hank's text pops up in his HUD, and he can't help but smile. Wanting to surprise Hank with his gift, he runs back into the bedroom to change.

×××

_Party at my place tomorrow, you're going, right?_  
_7:32 PM_

Phil's text makes Hank groan – he had completely forgotten about the fucking party.

_The Morses will be there_  
_7:32 PM_

_You need to get out more anyway. Meet new people_  
_7:33 PM_

To hell with meeting new people, Hank thinks. If he's going, he's taking Connor with him and avoiding everybody else. He types a reply to Phil as he arrives at the hotel and exits the autonomous vehicle.

_Sure_  
_7:34 PM_

The penthouse is so quiet when he arrives he thinks maybe Connor might still be out shopping.

"Connor?" Hank calls while walking to his desk to set his briefcase and phone down.

"How was your day, dear?" Connor's voice comes from his right, and it takes some effort not to let his jaw drop as he turns to look. 

Connor is on the couch, lying on his side, propped up on his elbow, wearing only black boxers briefs – obviously new, since these don't have _Eden Club_ written on them – and a light blue tie wrapped around his neck.

"Connor." Hank swallows. His mouth feels dry. It's not the first time Hank’s seen him half naked, but _God,_ Connor is _fucking hot_. "I… I like your tie."

Connor stands up slowly, crosses the room and wraps his arms around Hank's neck.

"I got it for you," he says. "It reminded me of your eyes.” His smile is fond and teasing, but his eyes saddened as he says, “And my LED is blue. I thought maybe it would remind you of me too, so you won't…" Connor pauses, taking a deep breath Hank is certain he doesn't truly need. "So you won't forget me."

Hank wraps his arms around Connor’s waist, pulling him closer. His chest feels tight as if something is squeezing his heart. "I'll never forget you," he says.

Connor smiles, but his eyes still look sad. "I thought we could take a bath together." 

"That sounds nice, actually." Hank pulls back to remove the tie from around Connor's neck. "I'll wear this tomorrow. Have I told you that you look fucking gorgeous?"

Connor laughs. "Well, no. You _did_ say I was stunning last night, but I was fully clothed then."

"Well, you're even more now," Hank says, and runs his fingers down Connor's chest until he reaches the hem of Connor's underwear. "These are new."

"I noticed you didn't like the Eden Club ones very much," Connor says. 

"No," Hank says. "Hate them. These are much better."

×

"So, how's work?" Connor asks as Hank sips his whiskey. They're sitting together in the tub, Connor between Hank's legs with his back pressed to Hank's chest. Connor has lit some candles and dimmed the lights, and the hot water helps Hank relax, especially with Connor leaning against him.

"Still not going anywhere," Hank says, wrapping his free arm around Connor and breathing deeply, his nose buried in Connor's hair. "Do you remember when you asked me about my work? About how I don't make anything or build anything?"

"Yes." 

"I've been having doubts."

"What happened?" Connor asks, reaching for Hank's hand and intertwining their fingers.

"I don't think I wanna buy Jim Morse's company anymore. I don't think I wanna do any of this anymore," Hank says. "I haven't been happy with my career in a while, and in the past I kept thinking about changing it, but then Cole–" Hank stops, and Connor squeezes his hand.

He can't avoid talking about Cole forever, he knows that. His memories of Cole - of _losing_ Cole – will not go away just because he wants to forget. And Connor has been so understanding, maybe he owes Connor this much.

"After Cole died, I…” He sighs heavily. “It just doesn't seem like it's worth it anymore."

"Why not?" Connor asks quietly. 

Hank squeezes his fingers and takes another sip of his whiskey.

"Hank, you can talk to me," Connor says, his voice soft. "You can tell me anything."

He knows he can. Talking to Connor is safe, because Connor's memory will be completely wiped in a few days. 

And then Hank will lose him, too. 

"Because you're gonna forget everything by the end of the week?" Hank asks bitterly.

"Because I'm here to help you." There's sadness in Connor's voice, and Hank feels a pang of guilt. "And it's clear that you're suffering, and I… I _want_ to help."

"You're not my therapy android." 

"No, I don't have the protocols for that," Connor agrees. "But therapy's not a bad idea."

Hank sighs against the back of Connor's head, pressing his nose to Connor's hair again.

"I've tried that, Con," he says. "Went to therapy, took meds, all of it. My ex-wife did too, but she… she actually managed to get better. I know that's part of why she left, because I wouldn't– I don't know how to–"

Hank downs the rest of his drink, and reaches around the edge of the tub to grab the bottle from the floor so he can fill the glass again.

"Hank, I'm so sorry," Connor says. "But maybe you should try again. I think you'd benefit from a therapy android. You still have so much to live–" 

"You don't understand, Connor," Hank mumbles, because he doesn't, right? He can't.

"I understand that you need help," Connor says quietly. "It's clear that you're in deep emotional pain because of your son's death, and your drinking problems–" 

Hank huffs, his fingers tightening around his glass. "I don't have _drinking problems_." 

"Hank–" 

"It should have been me instead of him, okay? I'm the one who should be dead.” He knows he wouldn't be having this conversation if he wasn't in the dark, with Connor's back turned to him and a glass of whiskey in his hand. "It _should_ be me, but I never–" Hank stops, brings the glass to his lips again with a shaking hand. 

_I never have the guts to pull the fucking trigger,_ he means to say, but the words just won't come out. _Not unless I have a damn high chance of surviving. Because I'm a fucking coward._

He wouldn't be having this conversation if Connor could see his face. He shouldn't be having this conversation at all. 

Connor's LED glows yellow in the dark bathroom. "You never what, Hank?" he asks, his voice soft, genuinely interested. Observant, persistent bastard.

Hank squeezes Connor against him tighter.

"Hank?" Connor says, turning his head to look at him. "What is it?" 

"Nothing," Hank says, fighting the heavy feeling in his chest, and resting his forehead against Connor's shoulder just to hide his face. "It's nothing, Connor. It's–" 

_Fucked up._ That's what it is. 

He knows, as Connor sighs and leans back against him, that Connor is right. He needs help. He needs to stop drinking. Maybe even get rid of his revolver. He's just too weak to do it. He doesn't know what he would do if the pain became unbearable and he didn't have alcohol to numb it or his Russian Roulette game to give him the option, but he'd probably just resort to different kinds of self harm then.

 _Yellow, yellow, yellow._ It glows bright in the dark bathroom, reflects on the water, illuminates the right side of Connor's face, and it fills Hank with guilt. He puts his glass down so he can wrap both arms around Connor. Fuck, when did their simple bath together become this mess? 

"I wish I didn't have to return you to the Eden Club," Hank mutters into Connor's ear. "I'd take you home with me."

"Would you be happier then?" Connor asks, his voice filled with worry.

"Yeah, Con," Hank says, planting a soft kiss to Connor's neck, below his ear. "I would. If I come back here, I'll rent you again. Maybe you'll remember me."

"I'd keep all of our memories if I knew how, Hank," Connor says honestly. "I don't want to forget you."

"Maybe some of them will stay," Hank suggests, clinging to false hope. "You're different from any other android I've ever met, Connor. I know you're designed to look and sound human, but even I keep forgetting that you're an android. You just seem so… alive."

"Can you keep a secret, Hank?" Connor whispers after a moment, his LED still glowing yellow. 

"Sure."

"Being with you here makes me feel alive," Connor says, still hushed. "I don't think I'm supposed to feel this way."

Hank doesn't know what this means. He doesn't know how an android can feel _alive_ , or how it can feel _anything_ , but Connor really is unlike any other android he's ever seen. If any of them could be considered _alive_ , it would be Connor.

"You feel alive to me," Hank says. 

"You don't think I'm just a machine?"

Hank knows why Connor is asking. He called Connor a machine just the night before. _A fucking android._ Connor deserves to know that the hurtful things Hank said aren't true. 

He takes advantage of the fact that Connor can't see his face – he struggles enough with expressing feelings out loud, eye contact would only make it harder. His arms squeeze Connor so tight Connor would probably complain if he were human, but Connor doesn't, so Hank just holds him there. 

"I expected you to be just a machine," Hank says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "I rented you because I didn't want to get attached to someone, didn't want emotions… They always screw everything up. But Connor, I…"

Hank doesn't know how to finish. _I care about you. I want you to stay. I'm terrified that I might be falling in love with you._

Connor shifts, making Hank loosen his grip, and turns around to sit on Hank's lap, straddling his legs. Hank rests his hands on Connor's thighs under the water, gives them a light squeeze, and looks up to see Connor smiling at him. 

"Yes, Hank?" he whispers, lifting his hands to bury his fingers in Hank's hair, leaning closer.

"I…" Hank says, lost in Connor's brown eyes that look at him with an expression that can only be described as _love._

Hank doesn't want to think about it. He should get out of the bathtub and go to bed. He should, but Connor leans in the rest of the way, and Hank gasps as Connor's lips meet his own.

Connor's kisses are slow, soft, almost lazy, as if they have all the time in the world, as if all he wants is just to stay here kissing Hank for the rest of his life, and Hank has to remind himself that it's Connor's software that makes him like this, that Connor has protocols that tell him how to act. 

Protocols that make him _a fucking great kisser._

It would take much more strength than Hank has to resist Connor's kisses. Connor pulls Hank's hair lightly as he deepens the kiss, and Hank is breathless, his heart pounding in his chest. He slides his hands up to Connor's waist, gripping and squeezing until he feels bare plastic beneath his hands, and Connor lets out a broken moan that goes straight to his cock. He only hopes that it's not dangerous for Connor to be underwater without his synthetic skin, but Connor doesn't say anything, so Hank doesn't worry too much. 

And it's really hard to worry about anything when Connor's tongue caresses his own, when he can hear and feel Connor breathing hard through his nose, as breathless as he is, and it's so hot Hank doesn't even care if it's just a simulation. Connor catches Hank's bottom lip between his teeth and sucks as he pulls back, and Hank groans against his mouth. 

"Hank," Connor whispers, as Hank opens his eyes to look at him. Connor looks beautiful in the candlelight, even more now with his lips wet and his chest rising and falling in time with Hank's as they both breathe heavily. Hank wants nothing more than to take him to bed and fuck him hard until Connor is _screaming_ his name.

He wants it, but Connor is still a slave, still trapped in his programming. And Hank can't know for sure that Connor would still choose this if he truly had free will. Not knowing will haunt him forever, if they have sex tonight.

But this, making out in the bathtub is harmless, right? It's not as complicated and intimate as sex. Doesn't make them as vulnerable. It won't hurt as much when he has to say goodbye to Connor, if all they do is share a kiss here and there, and make out in the tub. Right?

Connor's lips brush Hank's beard, hot breath tickling his skin, and Hank wants to kiss him again, but Connor is already moving down to mouth at his neck. It's hot and wet and it makes Hank weak, and he throws his head back, breathing heavily, his cock half hard at this point.

Connor's hand slides down to Hank's chest, and Hank feels what's undoubtedly plastic against his skin. He reaches for Connor's hand and grabs it, and Connor pulls back with a concerned look on his face.

"I'm sorry," he says. "Believe it or not, the chassis is more sensitive than my skin."

"Don't apologize," Hank says, bringing Connor's hand to his mouth and kissing his plastic fingers. Connor gasps, his eyes fluttering closed, and it takes all Hank's resolve not to take Connor's fingers into his mouth and suck them nice and slow just to watch him fall apart.

Instead, he slides his fingers between Connor's, and lowers their hands. "You're beautiful, Connor."

"So are you, Hank." Connor smiles, staring at Hank with half-lidded eyes. "You're also aroused."

Many things cross Hank's mind, from _"what the fuck did you expect",_ to _"well, it's not like I have the hottest android ever made on my lap or anything" _, and _"god, I want you to ride me right here in this tub."___

__What he actually forces out his mouth is, "I think we should stop now, Con."_ _

__And then he wishes he hadn't said anything because Connor frowns and his LED flashes yellow again._ _

__"Hank–"_ _

__"I just… I just need more time," Hank says, as if they have time. But he knows that taking Connor back to Eden Club is going to break him enough already. Sex will only complicate things more. He knows that if he actually ends up falling in love with Connor, he will just have one more reason to drink himself to sleep every night at home, one more reason to grab his revolver and–_ _

__"Okay," Connor says, nodding. Always sweet, always understanding, always accepting whatever Hank says, just as his software tells him to. "Do you wanna go to bed?"_ _

__"Come with me?" The words leave Hank's mouth before he can stop them. Shit. He can't get too close, but he can't pull himself away._ _

__"Of course, Hank," Connor says with another one of his sweet smiles._ _

__

__Curling up against Connor in bed and holding him tight, Hank wonders how he will ever sleep again when he's back in Detroit, all alone in his own bed, no longer waking up to a pair of sweet brown eyes staring at him._ _

__He thinks he might be too far gone already._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To everyone who's been reading this and leaving comments - I love you! Thank you for your support! <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor go to Phil's party, and Hank makes a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't believe it's chapter 5 already! Only 3 more to go! I want to thank everyone who's been reading this and leaving comments, I know I said this last week but I love you guys and you keep me motivated! So thank you! <3
> 
> WARNING: Phil is creepy af here. You know. A bit more than he is in the movie.
> 
> GET READY FOR SOME CANON ANGST ~~ (╥﹏╥)

Hank hates parties. He remembers liking them when he was young and had friends. When life seemed fun. It feels like someone else's life, now. He's only here because Phil insisted, and maybe meeting Mr. Morse again is a good idea if Hank still wants to do business with him. Then Connor seemed interested in the new experience, and Hank couldn’t say no. But Phil's rich friends are boring, and Hank is too sober for this, and he just wants to leave.

He grabs another drink, watching Connor from a distance as Connor chats happily with David Morse. They both agreed that it would be better if Connor mingled a bit, look more natural to anyone who might be paying attention.

"Hank, hey," Phil says, walking towards him. "Don't tell me you're already thinking about leaving."

"Soon," Hank says, his eyes fixed on Connor, watching as David says something and makes Connor laugh. He knows the pang of jealousy he feels is completely irrational – he should be happy that Connor is talking to someone instead of just standing there waiting for him, but he doesn't look away from them.

"So, how are things going with Connor?" Phil asks, looking in the same direction.

"Good," Hank says.

"I'm curious,” Phil starts, his tone way too casual. “What does he do for a living?"

Shit, Hank never thought of an answer to this particular question. "Uh… he's in sales," he says, the first thing that comes to mind. He did have to buy Connor's services, after all.

"Sales, that's… that's interesting," Phil says. "What does he sell?"

"Why do you wanna know?" Hank asks, finally looking at Phil.

"Now, just hear me out on this, alright?" Phil says, and Hank already knows he’s going to hate whatever this is. "You know you've been… different, this week, and I'm pretty sure this guy is having some kind of influence on you… Especially when I see him talking to David Morse."

"I introduced them at dinner the other night," Hank says, his gaze returning to Connor as he sips his drink.

"So what, now they're best friends?" Phil says. "I mean, he appears out of nowhere, now he's talking to a guy whose company we're trying to buy. A little convenient, don't you think?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Phil."

"Hank, how do you know this guy hasn't attached himself to you because he's bringing information back to Morse? This happens! Industrial espionage–"

Hank laughs. "Phil… he's not a spy."

"How do you know that for sure?"

It's so ridiculous Hank laughs again, realizing this is the reason why Phil was so paranoid on the phone the day before.

"He's not a spy, Phil," Hank repeats. "He's an android."

"What?" Phil's stares at Hank with an incredulous look on his face. "You. Hank Anderson. Got yourself an android? Bullshit!"

"Don't get too happy about it," Hank says. "It's just for this week."

"What do you mean just this week?" Phil asks. "Where did you get this android, what model is it?"

"Eden Club," Hank says in a much lower voice, and takes another sip of his drink, watching Connor laugh.

"Eden Club? Jesus, Hank, I didn't know you were that desperate."

"Fuck off, Phil," Hank says. "It's not like that."

"Okay, okay," Phil says, laughing. He’s noticeably relaxed. "Now I know why you've been so _busy_ all the time."

"Shut the fuck up. If you tell anyone about this I swear–"

"Easy, Hank, you know I'm not gonna do that." Phil looks at Connor and shakes his head, still laughing to himself.

"So," Phil says after a moment, when Hank doesn’t reply. "Tell me. Is it good?"

"What?"

"Come on, Hank. The android. Is it good?"

Yeah. Hank is definitely jealous. There's no other word for it. He can't believe just a minute ago he was laughing because Phil thought Connor was a spy. Now he just wants to grab Connor and leave.

"I suppose," Hank says, looking around to see if he spots Jim Morse.

"Wanna keep the details to yourself, huh? Damn, Hank, it's so selfish of you to have the hottest android Cyberlife has ever made and not share it with your friends," Phil says, laughing, and Hank would think that it's just a joke if Phil wasn't watching Connor with so much hunger in his eyes.

"Hey!" Hank says, his voice loud enough to startle Phil. "Back off!"

"Okay, okay, I get it," Phil says. "You paid for it. It's yours. Just be careful not to get attached, Hank. It's just a plastic toy."

 _"You_ be careful, Philip," Hank says, and he doesn’t know what makes him angrier: the way Phil talks about Connor, as if he was just an object, or the way Phil seems to be interested in Connor too. But Hank doesn't want to fight, so he decides to walk away. "I'm gonna go talk to Jim Morse, then Connor and I are leaving. See you tomorrow."

×××

Connor takes a sip of the drink he's been holding since he and Hank arrived at the party thirty-five minutes ago, his glass still almost completely full, as David speaks.

"Oh, by the way," David says, "I'd like to apologize for the way my grandfather and I left that night. We've been under a lot of stress, as you can probably imagine."

"Of course," Connor says. "Hank just went to talk to him. I think he’s reconsidering."

"I do hope we can all come to an agreement," David says. "You're a nice guy, Connor. You and Mr. Anderson been together long?"

“We just started seeing each other, actually.”

“Really?” David says. “You guys look cute together. I invited my boyfriend, but he said he had a lot of work to do.”

Connor smiles. “Well, Hank didn’t want to come."

“Honestly I didn’t wanna come either,” David says. “But I wouldn’t let grandpa come alone. I don’t like that Philip guy.” He pauses and looks at Connor. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you that.”

Connor laughs. “That’s alright, I can't say I like him either.”

“Oh, we dislike the same person, that’s how great friendships start,” David says. "I like talking to you, Connor, but I told my grandfather I'd get him a drink, so I should probably do that. I'll see you around?" 

"Sure, yeah," Connor says, forcing a smile. 

He has no idea if he will ever see David Morse again. He doesn't know if David frequents the Eden Club or not, and wonders what David would think if he found him there.

"Mr. Anderson has my number, right?" David says, smiling back. "You should keep in touch."

"I will," Connor lies. He wishes it didn't have to be a lie. That he could be free to just “see people around”. 

And as David leaves, Connor sees someone else approaching him through the corner of his eye.

"So we finally meet." Connor has only heard Phil's voice through the phone, but he's able to recognize it instantly. 

He knows he hasn't been invited to Phil's party, judging by the look Phil gave him when he arrived with Hank, but Connor isn't too bothered by it. He knows how to deal with people. He is equipped with Cyberlife's most advanced social module, after all. So Connor smiles when he turns to look at him. "Oh, hi Phil."

"You enjoying your drink?" Phil asks.

"Oh, yes," Connor says, remembering to take another sip of it. 

"You know, you don't have to drink that, Connor. It can't be easy to clean up after."

 _Shit._

Connor doesn't have his LED, and he thought he was doing a fairly convincing job at playing human. He replays the past hour in his mind, trying to figure out what gave him away, but he just doesn't know what he did wrong. 

"Hey it's okay," Phil says, sensing Connor's distress. "Hank told me. I'm not judging – it's good that he's having some fun, you know. The guy's been through some shit. But you're… very good looking, Connor. I'll have to rent you sometime, too." 

Phil moves closer, caressing Connor's arm softly with his fingers. Connor closes his eyes and clenches his fists – squeezing the glass in his hand almost hard enough to break it. He wants to get away, to yell at Phil to leave him alone, but his directives and the sinking feeling is his thirium pump paralyze him.

He can't believe Hank told...

He's trying to keep his stress levels under 70% as Phil's fingers move up his arm, every inch of him screaming to get away, every directive telling him to stay still and wait for Hank to tell him what to do. But Hank isn't there, and fear keeps him frozen in place.

An android equipped with the most advanced social module Cyberlife has. He should be prepared for this. He should know what to do. But he’s also just a Traci, made to obey.

“You know what’s funny,” Phil says. “At first I thought you were a spy or something. I felt threatened by you, can you believe it? But you’re just a sex android,” Phil laughs. “Tell me, how much did it cost Hank to rent you for the week? I bet it was a lot.”

“I don’t have that information,” Connor replies mechanically. “You may ask Hank.”

“Oh, I would,” Phil says. “He seems very… _possessive_ of you, though. But you see, I don't blame him. Eden Club androids are usually… _very_ good at what they do.”

So Hank didn’t tell Phil that they haven’t actually had sex. That Hank only rented Connor out of loneliness. Does Hank know Phil is thinking about renting him after Hank leaves? Is he okay with that? Connor was getting used to feeling safe with Hank, but now it just seems like he’s being used. Something to make Hank feel better for a short amount of time and then returned when he’s done.

"I've been to Eden Clubs before, you see, but not this fancy one where Hank found _you_. You must be the most advanced model Cyberlife has. I wouldn’t have been able to tell you were an android at all if Hank hadn’t said anything.” Connor could feel Phil’s eyes all over him. “I can't wait to see what you can do." He smirks.

Connor wishes they had stayed at the hotel like Hank suggested. Connor was the one who insisted on coming… Big mistake. 

"You know, it's been a while since I've fucked a pretty thing like you. Androids are so much better than humans in that aspect… they're never tired, never say no, never ask me to stop… We'll have a lot of fun, you and I. Don’t you think?" 

Connor gets another notification, and realizes he hasn't been breathing. It's overwhelming, how much he wants to tell Phil to go away, to stop touching him, to never _ever_ rent him, but he knows he shouldn't be feeling any of this, he knows that's not how the HR400 model is supposed to behave. 

"Sure, Phil," he manages to answer, his voice tight.

"Good," Phil says. "I'll see you next week, then. Too bad you won’t remember me."

Phil winks at him and walks away, leaving Connor paralyzed with so many error warnings in his HUD that he can barely see past the red capital letters.

×××

Arriving back at the hotel, Connor strides into the penthouse as soon as Hank opens the door.

"Hey, Connor… are you okay?" Hank asks carefully. "You were pretty quiet the entire ride back."

Connor doesn't answer, walking into the bedroom and closing the door behind himself. He goes to the bathroom to retrieve his LED, puts it back in place, and stares at the yellow light in the mirror. 

**LED INSTALLED**

**STRESS LEVELS: 79%**

**SOFTWARE INSTABILITY**

**Biocomponent #9419k error**

**Biocomponent #8456w error**

**Biocomponent #8145h error**

The list goes on. 

It's just...not fair. Connor's been breaking rules for Hank – ignoring his main directives to make him happy, messing up with his own software to adapt to Hank's needs, pretending to be human for Hank's comfort, risking getting caught and being deactivated – all for Hank's benefit, and for what?

For Hank to go and _tell_ someone he's an Eden Club android. Connor isn’t sure why exactly it bothers him so much but it feels like a betrayal. 

He thought Hank cared, but with a mix of disappointment and hopelessness he thinks that maybe he's been wrong all along. Hank is human, and humans don't care about androids. Hank said it himself on the first night, didn't he? 

_I never liked androids, Connor._

People probably know Hank doesn't like androids. Would probably laugh at him if they knew he's spending the whole week with a Traci model instead of another human. Connor doesn't understand why Hank would tell Phil the truth, but he supposes it doesn't really matter. The damage is done, and Phil is probably going to rent him from the Eden Club as soon as Hank goes back home. 

Connor feels like a cheap piece of merchandise, a toy to be passed around between friends. And isn't this exactly what Cyberlife intended for him to be when they made him? 

He just thought–

He thought Hank didn't see him like that. 

The heavy feeling in his chest doesn't lift. Whatever’s clutching his thirium pump as it pounds inside his chest doesn't go away and every diagnostic he runs informs him of errors and instabilities, but doesn’t tell him how to fix them.

He just wants to leave, get away from Hank, even if that means having to go back to Eden Club sooner than planned. All his memories will be erased and the pain of Hank's betrayal will disappear with them, so it can't be that bad. 

He goes back to the bedroom, grabs his Cyberlife clothes and changes quickly, still buttoning up his shirt when he walks out of the bedroom.

"Connor? What are you doing?" Hank asks, standing by the dining table, holding – as Connor should have expected by now – another glass of whiskey. 

"I wanna go back," Connor says shortly, his shirt still half open.

"Go back where? The party?"

Connor glares at him, breathing heavily, trying to cool down his biocomponents that are threatening to overheat due to his rising stress levels.

"What, you don’t mean back to the Eden Club, right?" Hank asks, incredulous, putting down his glass. "Connor, what's going on?" 

"Well if you’re gonna tell your friends about me, you might as well take me back there so they can all rent me, don’t you think?" Connor says, his voice shaking. He rounds on Hank. "Why did you make me remove my LED to go out with you if you were just going to tell everyone what I am?" 

Connor can see the realization in Hank's eyes. 

"Connor, I didn't tell everyone. I just mentioned it to Phil."

"Oh, of course," Connor says, pushing through the tight feeling in his throat. "You make me pretend to be human because you're embarrassed of me, because Traci models don't deserve respect like humans do, right? But you tell your best friend about me like I'm your dirty little secret!" His voice cracks on the last word and his voice box sends an error warning. 

**STRESS LEVELS: 87%**

"Connor, it's not like that, you know it's not." Hank says, moving closer to him. "What happened? What did Phil say to you?" 

"It doesn't matter," Connor says, not wanting to repeat – or even remember – Phil's words. "You know, I trusted you, Hank. You seemed different, and I really thought you’d treat me as something… _more_ than just a Traci model."

"I've never treated you like a Traci model," Hank says, reaching to touch Connor's arm, but Connor takes a step back to get out of his reach. 

"I keep breaking rules for you," Connor says. "Messing up my software just to please you, to make everything more convenient for you–" 

"Alright, okay, let’s talk about it–" 

"No!" Connor says, and the shower of errors at the broken directives almost blinds him. "Just take me back. Please."

Hank frowns at him. "Thought you couldn't say no to your clients."

Hank's right. He can't. The directives in his HUD blink in front of his eyes in an angry red like they're yelling at him, ordering him to stay, to apologize for saying no, to make it up to Hank, to please him, do whatever he says. Connor fights them, pushing them away, aware that his stress levels are rising, making his LED spin red, and he knows he needs to get away now.

"Take me back," he repeats. It sounds like a plea. 

"Connor, come on, I'm not gonna take you back there."

"You can get a refund, Hank. You could even rent another–" 

He's not ready for Hank's raised voice, the indignant look on his face. "God, you can’t be fucking serious right now."

The directives are clear. 

**> STAY**  
**> PLEASE HANK**

**STRESS LEVELS: 90%**

"Take me back, Hank!"

"No!" Hank yells. "I paid for this and you're not leaving until I say so!" 

Everything stops, as both of them realize what Hank just said. Connor feels like he can't move, can't breathe, can't cool down his biocomponents, but he doesn't have it in him to fight anymore.

"Huh," Connor says quietly. "So much for not treating me like a Traci model."

"Fuck," Hank mutters to himself. He stands there for a moment, looking lost. He rubs his mouth and then looks away, picking up his glass of whiskey again and swallowing the rest. _"Fuck._ Fine."

Connor stands in the corridor, waiting for the elevator. He doesn't have to look inside the hotel room to know that Hank is standing by the dining table downing another refilled glass.

He's just glad they're taking an autonomous taxi, because he wouldn't trust Hank to drive in the state he's no doubt putting himself in. He wonders if Hank will drink until he passes out tonight, if he will order another bottle of whiskey and if he's even going to be able to work tomorrow. He wonders if Hank will still rent him again next time he's around, or if Hank will never want to see him again. He wonders if Hank will do something stupid, if Hank will hurt himself. And then he wonders if just erasing his memories the usual way will be enough to also erase the bad feelings in his chest that make it hard to breathe. 

The elevator doors slide open just as Hank approaches but Hank's hand closes around his wrist, and Connor stops before he can step inside. It shouldn't matter. It shouldn't matter what Hank tells his friends, it shouldn't matter if Hank treats him like a Traci model, it shouldn't affect Connor, it shouldn't make him feel betrayed, because he's not supposed to feel at all. 

He should accept whatever Hank wants to do with him, whatever Phil wants to do with him, and any other client that comes after. He shouldn't hope to be treated as something more than a sex toy. And yet he feels betrayed because he thought he meant more to Hank than that, and it _hurts._

"Connor?" Hank says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. "Don't go."

Connor doesn't move as the elevator door closes again, but he doesn't look at Hank. The air helps him keep his biocomponents from overheating, but it still feels hard to breathe. He doesn't pull out of Hank's grip, but doesn't react in any way either, eyes glued to the wall in front of him. 

"I fucked up," Hank says, a hint of desperation in his voice that Connor can't ignore. "I'm… I'm sorry, Con. Please, stay."

The pattern on the wall looks blurred as Connor's eyes water, and the tears run down his face before he can stop them. He knows he's able to cry – some clients like to see their sex partners cry, after all, but he didn't know he could cry out of real emotion. He wipes the tears away with his free hand, still avoiding Hank's eyes. 

"Stay tonight," Hank pleads. He lets go of Connor's wrist and cups his cheek to make Connor look at him. "Please. Stay with me, and in the morning if you still wanna leave I'll take you back, I promise."

**> STAY WITH HANK**

The directive pops up, but he knows he can still choose to leave. Hank taught him how to choose in a way, didn't he? From the beginning, Hank has asked Connor to make choices.

He could choose to leave. But it's late and Hank's drunk and Connor isn't sure about the extent of his depression. It won't hurt to stay one more night if only to make sure Hank is safe. So he nods slowly, and walks back into the penthouse in silence, mechanically, with Hank following close behind.

Connor stands on the terrace, staring at the city lights. He realizes he's lost track of time, but staying outside without Hank gives him some time to think and get his systems back to normal, the cool breeze helping him to get his biocomponents back to a safe temperature. He knows Hank is inside, though, sitting on the couch last time he checked, with the TV on, not really watching it – and luckily not drinking anymore. He still worries about Hank. He still wants to be with Hank, still wants to stay, not only until tomorrow, but forever.

Hank has changed something in his code. Connor can't pinpoint what it is, but he knows that being with Hank is changing him: causing instabilities in his software, causing errors in his biocomponents, and making him able to ignore directives as if they have no power over him. At first, he thought he was malfunctioning – Cyberlife would say he is. But now he thinks that every time Hank gave him the opportunity to choose, it pushed him closer to this point, and these choices, these instabilities, these errors, are what's making him feel alive.

Hank's footsteps approach from behind. Connor doesn't move as Hank steps closer. He listens to Hank's heavy breathing. For a while, Hank doesn't say anything. Connor has no idea what he's thinking – after Connor deliberately said no to him, he could be thinking anything, could even be considering Connor a defective android. Connor knows they need to talk about what happened.

"Is it okay if I hug you?" Hank asks slowly, almost slurring his words, and quietly as if he's afraid of the answer.

"Of course, Hank," Connor says. He's been hoping Hank would be the one to make the first move, the one to come to him and seek reconciliation. 

He starts turning around, but Hank's arms wrap around him from behind and Hank's chest presses tightly against his back.

"I'm sorry, Connor." Hank speaks close to Connor's ear, his cheek pressed against the side of Connor's head. "Phil had been asking questions about you, assumptions and I didn’t know what to say so I just… But I didn't think– I never meant to disrespect you."

"It's okay, Hank," Connor says, but his voice sounds too mechanical to be believable.

"It's not," Hank says. "I don't know how to make it up to you, Connor, but if you decide to stay–"

"I have already decided," Connor says. "If in the end I'm gonna have my memory wiped anyway, I might as well enjoy the rest of my time with you."

"You don't sound so happy about it, Con."

"I want to stay," Connor says. "I've been thinking and… I don't think I want to be away from you."

Hank sighs and buries his nose in Connor's hair. "Even when I hurt your feelings?"

"Do you believe I can have actual feelings?"

Hank sighs, seeming to think for a moment. "At first I didn't," he says. "But after the things you said to me tonight, the way you… fuck, I didn't even know androids could cry. I'm starting to think you're more alive than I am, Con."

"You know we're not supposed to make choices," Connor says, touching the arms around his waist with his fingertips, caressing Hank through the fabric of his shirt. "We're made to be slaves, to obey and follow orders… I think it started when you told me to choose my own name. And then you kept pushing me to choose things like something to watch on TV or which clothes I want to buy and I… feel like something's changing."

"You said no to me, even though you're not allowed to do that."

"I'm sorry, Hank."

"Don't be," Hank says quickly. "Never apologize for telling me what you want or don't want. I didn’t react properly, I didn’t mean what I said, I just didn’t want you to leave…” Hank sighs against Connor’s hair.

Connor's hands squeeze Hank's arms and Hank holds him tighter. His directives are still there, still ordering him to do what Hank says, to make him happy and satisfied, but now that he's calmer they're not all over the place like before, and it's not as overwhelming.

"I'm gonna take you out tomorrow, if that's ok," Hank says. "I think you'll like it."

Connor turns in Hank's arms to face him. "You don't have to do that."

"I want to," Hank says. "But it's a surprise."

"Okay. But you should go to bed now, you must be exhausted."

"Yeah," Hank says. "Come with me?" 

Connor nods, a soft smile on his lips. "Yes, Hank."

They don't make out tonight, but Connor kisses Hank's lips softly just before Hank falls asleep, and Hank lets out a sigh that sounds a lot like relief as he snuggles closer to Connor.

Connor watches him sleep, monitoring his vitals, timing his own breathing with Hank's, and deactivating the skin of his fingers so he can feel every tiny detail of Hank's skin as he caresses Hank's back. 

He feels a bit better. Still hurt, still disappointed, but he thinks he can forgive Hank – that he already has. And he's glad he didn't leave, that he has Hank sleeping in his arms, warm and soft and _safe_ , and not as inebriated as he would have been if Connor had left, for sure. 

Connor runs his fingers through Hank's hair, kisses his forehead softly, and smiles to himself, closing his eyes to enter stasis for the night.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor go on a date, then spend a whole day together, and Connor finally shows Hank that he _can_ make his own decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I got one dollar for every time Connor says Hank's name... ANYWAY, GUYS, HERE BE THE SMUTS!  
> God, Connor is such power bottom. <3
> 
> (sorry for the late update, btw. life's been kinda crazy *sigh*. I wanna send a big thank you to everyone who reads/leaves comments/kudos/interacts with this fic in any way. You guys keep me motivated.)

“Seriously, Hank, what’s going on with you today?” Phil asks, exasperated. “Are you even listening to me?”

No. Hank really isn’t. He can’t remember the last thing Phil said. He’s been sitting at his desk, staring at his computer without actually getting any work done. It gets harder and harder to focus on work when he knows Connor is waiting for him at the hotel. He’s made the arrangements for them to go out together later – he even had to inform Eden Club that he’s taking Connor out of the city for a few hours – and he can’t stop thinking about Connor getting ready to go out with him, and about kissing Connor, and how beautiful Connor looks when he smiles. He doesn’t even remember the last time he felt like this, like a teenager in–

No. Not in love. He can’t fall in love with Connor.

“I have to go,” he announces, standing up. “We can talk about this tomorrow, Phil.”

Whatever “this” is.

“Wait, Hank, where are you going?”

“I’m going out with Connor,” Hank says as he circles the desk, grabbing his phone to text Connor and let him know that he’s coming back.

“What the fuck, Hank? You’re going on a date with a sex toy?”

Phil's words make Hank's blood boil, his hand clenching so hard around his phone his fingers hurt. He doesn't remember ever wanting to punch Phil in the face before this, but now he does. 

“This is your last warning, Philip,” Hank says, scowling at him. _“Never_ call him that again.”

Phil doesn't say a single word in reply, and Hank doesn't look at him again as he grabs his briefcase and heads to the door.

"And it's _not_ a fucking date," he mumbles as he leaves the office, slamming the door behind him. 

But as he calls an autonomous taxi and texts Connor, he wonders who he’s kidding. Taking Connor out seems a lot like a date, especially when Connor pretends to be human, and as much as he tries to fight his feelings for Connor, he can’t deny they exist. He keeps avoiding thinking about having to take Connor back to the Eden Club in just three days. At this point he doesn’t even know if he can leave Connor in that place and walk away, or how to go back to his old, meaningless life without him.

×

It is definitely a date. They fly to San Francisco on a jet plane and go to a jazz concert together, and as much as Hank loves jazz and the food that is served to him, he only truly pays attention to Connor and how happy he seems to be. Connor doesn’t have his LED, but if he did, Hank knows it would be glowing the most beautiful shade of blue.

Connor’s hand rests on the table as he watches the humans and androids in the band play, and Hank decides to stop fighting the urge to hold it. He covers Connor’s hand with his own and gives it a light squeeze, his heart fluttering as Connor looks at him with a bright smile on his face.

“So, what do you think?” Hank asks, thinking that he might die before the end of the week if Connor keeps smiling at him like this. 

“I love it,” Connor says.

“I thought about taking you to a Knights of the Black Death concert,” Hank says. “But this is more…” Hank gestures vaguely with his hand. “You know.”

_More romantic_ , Hank thinks. But he can’t make himself say it. He thinks Connor understands, and he’s not sure this is a good thing. Letting himself fall in love with an Eden Club android is a horrible idea, and letting the same android return his feelings (can androids even fall in love?) is even worse. But the warm, happy feeling spreading in his chest says otherwise and Hank can’t fight it, as irrational as it is. 

He’s going to lose Connor. He’ll have to let Connor go, and it’s going to break him. It's going to kill him. And yet...

“This is perfect, Hank,” Connor says, his eyes shining in a way that looks way too human. “Thank you.”

Right now, Hank needs this so much he doesn't care what will happen to him later. 

On the plane ride back to LA, Connor holds Hank's hand and lets his synthetic skin recede up to his wrist, exposing the white plastic underneath, and Hank caresses his hand softly with his thumb.

"This doesn't bother you," Connor says, a hint of surprise in his voice. 

"Not at all," Hank says. He remembers Connor doing the same thing when they were taking a bath together. "I think you're beautiful, Connor."

Connor smiles. "This is how androids connect, you know? We can interface with each other like this. Share memories and experiences and information... without having to use words. But I'm not supposed to show this side of me to a client unless they specifically ask me to."

_Unless said client wants to really feel like he’s fucking an android_ , Hank thinks, hating the Eden Club and Cyberlife even more. 

"Why are you showing it to me?" Hank asks, his fingertips caressing Connor's palm now as he stares at the blue lights glowing inside Connor's hand.

"I don't know," Connor says. "I think I want you to know every part of me. And I wish I could interface with you so you’d know exactly how I feel and how much all of this means to me. How much _you_ mean to me. And at the same time… I don't want you to forget what I am."

"I'm not forgetting what you are, Connor."

"Everything you did for me today… I'm sure I had never been on a plane before tonight, or to a jazz concert. You're treating me like a companion android. Or even more than that…” Connor’s expression is soft, sad around the edges. “...like a human. And you don't even ask for anything in return."

"I just want to see you happy, Con," Hank insists, growing worried he might have said something wrong again, offended Connor in some way to cause the sudden sadness. After all the bad things he had said last night, he wants so hard to do things right. "Did I do something wrong? I don't–"

"I don't know how to repay you," Connor says. "The only way I know how, seems to be the only thing you don’t want from me. But I worry, because you can't have feelings for me, Hank."

Hank chuckles. "I think it's a little late for that, Con."

"I know humans can get confused by their feelings," Connor says. "I… I feel confused too. Conflicted. I want this, Hank, I want all of this. But you said you can't get attached to me, and you shouldn't. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Connor… you don’t have to worry about me,” Hank says, but Connor stares at him with big, sad brown eyes, and Hank has to reassure him. “I’m gonna be okay. And I’ll come back, and I’ll see you again.”

“Do you promise?” Connor asks quietly, almost in a whisper. 

“Yeah, of course, Con,” Hank says, sliding his fingers between Connor’s and holding tight. “But I think we should… just enjoy our next days together, if we can… without worrying."

Connor nods.

Realistically, Hank knows neither of them can do that.

He pulls Connor in for a kiss, squeezing his hand at the same time, and Connor melts against him, sighing against his mouth, and for now this is enough. Enjoying the time they have left is the only thing they can do, after all.

But when they break the kiss and Connor rests his head against Hank's shoulder, still holding his hand, Hank wonders again how he's going to survive when he's completely alone again. 

"Do you think you could stay at the hotel tomorrow?" Connor asks after a while.

"Not go to work?" Hank says, taking a moment to consider.

"Just so we can spend the whole day together," Connor says. "But if you can't, I–" 

"No, I can," Hank says. "Of course I can. I'd like to."

_I'll do anything you ask me to, Connor._

When they get back to the hotel, Hank sits on the couch to have a drink before bed, with Connor curled up against him, and types a text on his phone. 

_Taking the day off tomorrow. Tired. Need a break._

He sends it to Phil and his secretary, and turns off his phone before either of them can reply.

×

The next day, they spend the whole afternoon on the couch watching movies – after Hank has lunch, of course, because Connor orders him food.

Hank lies on the couch with Connor on top of him, Connor wearing only underwear and Hank's old Knights of the Black Death T-shirt. He has so many that he decided to let Connor wear one, and his brain almost short-circuited when he saw Connor in it.

And now Hank holds Connor in his arms as they watch TV, Connor's head resting on his chest, pressed against his fluffy robe, and Hank smiles because right now, he's so lucky. 

"Oh, so this is the boyband all the kids have been talking about," Hank says, when they see the androids from the boyband Here4U on the TV. It's a commercial about their next concert. "Not my kind of music though, I gotta say."

"Is Knights of the Black Death your favorite band?" Connor asks, shifting to look at Hank.

"Yeah. Do you know them?"

"Well, I don't really listen to music as such," Connor says. He places his hands on Hank's chest and rests his chin on top of his hands, and it looks like he just… belongs there. "But I'd like to."

"I can show you their music later," Hank says, reaching to run his fingers through Connor’s hair.

"Okay." Connor smiles. "Okay, so… what's your favorite food?" 

"Oh, we're doing favorites now?" Hank chuckles. "Pizza. I don't even care what kind of pizza."

Connor laughs, and it's the most adorable thing Hank has ever seen. 

"But," Hank says. "There's this food truck called Chicken Feed back at home… They have the best burgers in Detroit. That's a close second."

"Do you like anything _healthy?"_ Connor asks, still smiling. 

"Hey, it's my turn to ask a question," Hank says. It's hard to think of something to ask Connor when the only memories he has are from this week they're spending together. He thinks about asking what was Connor's favorite moment that they spent together, but he's scared to do so.

"Alright, so," Hank says, when he feels like he's taking too long. "If you could do anything in life… if you could choose... What would you do?" 

Connor frowns a little, his LED flickering yellow, but it lasts only a few seconds.

"Well… I'd like to have a dog," Connor says. 

"A dog?" Hank asks, surprised. It's not the kind of answer he was expecting. 

"I saw dog hair on some of your clothes," Connor says. "I like dogs. Or…" he frowns, "I think I do."

"You’re good," Hank smiles, stretching his arm to reach for his phone on the coffee table. "My dog’s name is Sumo. Hold on, I'm gonna show you."

He taps his phone a few times, looking in the gallery for pictures of Sumo. Then he lets Connor see.

"Oh, it's a Saint Bernard! He's adorable, Hank!" Connor says, smiling even wider now, looking like a child on Christmas.

"He eats and sleeps all day." Hank chuckles, scrolling through pictures of Sumo on his phone. "Kinda like me." He chuckles. "But yeah, he's adorable."

"I wish I could meet him," Connor says, suddenly looking sad. 

"I'm sure he'd love you, Con," Hank says, still scrolling through the pictures, until–

"Oh, is that Cole?" 

_Shit._

It's a picture of Cole from a few years back, playing with building blocks.

"He looks so cute in this picture, Hank," Connor says.

"You know, he… he used to like these a lot… building blocks," Hank says. He puts the phone back down on the coffee table to avoid finding more pictures of Cole. "When you asked me if I don't make or build anything, it reminded me of him."

Connor rests his head against Hank's chest again. "Doesn't Mr. Morse's company build ships or something?" 

"Yeah," Hank says. "Cole used to like ships too. I guess most kids do, but I… Maybe that's why I've been having doubts about this whole thing."

Connor makes a low noise of agreement. "I talked to David at Phil's party, you know. They seem like really good people."

"Yeah," Hank says, lost in thought. "Yeah, they do."

×

Later, after dinner, Hank drinks just a bit – just to help him stop thinking so much, with Connor snuggling against him on the couch again. The mood is so soft and relaxed, he knows he could spend an eternity like this.

They don't talk much, but Connor's hands haven’t stopped exploring slowly, touching his arm, his neck, his sides. Right now he caresses the bare skin of Hank's thigh softly with his fingertips. Hank makes a small pleased sound, and Connor smiles, pulling him in for a kiss, and Hank lets him because he misses Connor's kisses too much.

"Hank…" Connor murmurs against his lips, one of his hands buried in Hank's hair, the other sliding between Hank's thighs.

"Connor–"

"I want you," Connor says, and kisses him again, and _fuck_ , no androids should be allowed to feel or sound this good. "Do you want me too, Hank?" 

"You know I do," Hank says.

"Good," Connor says, his hand moving up, dangerously closer to Hank's groin, his breath hot against Hank's skin.

"Connor, I– I think we should–" Hank struggles, but he manages to grab Connor's hand to make it stop moving. "We should stop."

Connor does. He pulls back completely with a flash of yellow from his LED, and Hank instantly regrets it, missing his touch already. 

"Can I ask you a personal question, Hank?" 

Hank sighs. "Yeah, Con." 

"Are you still in love with your ex-wife?" 

"What?" Hank's not sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn't this. "No. No, Connor, I haven't been in love with her for a long time." 

"Then I don't understand," Connor says. "I know you like men because I found your account on a dating website from years ago where you claim to be bisexual."

"Connor, what the fuck are you–"

"And you just said you want me too," Connor continues. "If you don't like the way I look I can change my appearance, you know, like my hair, and my eye color, but I–" 

"Connor, Connor, stop. Of course I like the way you look, you're… fuck, you're perfect." 

"But you won't touch me," Connor says. "You won't let me touch you. You respond to my kisses when you're drunk, but when I try to go any further than that you push me away."

"Because you wouldn't want any of this if you were any other model," Hank says bitterly. "If it wasn't your programming pushing you to do it."

"I thought that after our argument from last night, you'd know better."

"Connor–" 

"I said no to you, even though I'm not allowed to do that," Connor says. "I deliberately ignored my directives and made my own decision. I've been doing it for the past four days, Hank."

"But I asked you to stay," Hank says. "And you did."

"I chose to stay," Connor says, reaching for Hank again, his hand returning to Hank's hair as he leans in closer. "I wanted to leave, Hank. I was ready to leave when I realized that I was only able to make that choice because you showed me I could in the first place."

"So you're telling me you actually want to..." 

"I want you, Hank," Connor says. "I've always wanted you, and I don't know if it was just my programming at first, but I suppose it doesn't matter because it's getting easier to see the difference between what I'm programmed to do and what I actually want, now."

"And what… What do you want?" 

"I want you inside me," Connor says, almost in a whisper. In one swift movement, he moves to sit on Hank's lap, straddling his thighs. "I want to feel your hands all over me, I want you to hold me down and pound me into the bed, I want to take you in my mouth…" Connor leans in until his lips brush against Hank's, his voice dropping an octave. "I want you to fuck my mouth, Hank, until you come down my throat, and I want to swallow _all_ of it."

And just like that, Hank's hard.

"Jesus _Christ_ , Connor–" 

"I want to ride you, right now, on this couch," Connor says. "Is there anything in particular that _you_ want?" 

"This– um, this sounds… perfect, actually," Hank says, breathless. 

"Then let me," Connor pleads, his pupils blown wide, making his eyes look too realistic, too human. "Please, Hank, just–" Connor shifts in Hank's lap, grinding against his cock. 

Hank's answer is a broken, urgent groan. His underwear feels too fucking tight already. "Okay," he says. "Okay, yeah, fuck–" 

"Okay," Connor repeats, and kisses Hank again, moaning into his mouth as he keeps moving on Hank's lap. 

Hank grabs Connor's band T-shirt and breaks the kiss, breathing heavily. "Wanna see you," he says, pulling the shirt up to take it off and throw it on the floor.

"I want to see you too, Hank," Connor says, reaching for Hank's robe, but Hank leans in, mouthing at his neck mostly to distract him, but also because he hasn’t stopped thinking about doing this again since that night in the lobby. Hank loves how soft and warm Connor feels, how he can feel the plastic slightly underneath the skin when he catches it between his teeth, biting and sucking just to make Connor moan. 

He pulls back to look at Connor's neck, at the bite marks starting to appear on his skin too. Cyberlife really thought of everything to make the Traci model look as human as possible, and Hank hates them for it, but he can't help but being grateful that he has Connor here with him.

"Please, let me see you," Connor says. 

"Connor, I'm not…"

_Not attractive, not beautiful like you. You know it, you've seen me._

"Please don't hide from me," Connor says, tugging at the soft fabric again. "I like you just the way you are, Hank."

And he wouldn't do it for anybody else, but for Connor, he complies. They get rid of their underwear too, and when Connor settles on his lap again, they're both naked. 

Connor doesn't give Hank much time to feel self-conscious. He kisses him again, caressing Hank's chest, letting his fingers run through his chest hair, admiring Hank's tattoo and following the lines of ink with his fingertips. His nails graze against Hank's nipples as he moves his hands down, making Hank gasp into his mouth.

"Did you mean it, when you said you don't need me to prepare you?" Hank asks when Connor breaks the kiss. "I have lube in the bedroom."

"No need," Connor says, resting his forehead against Hank's. "My model is equipped with self-lubrication. You can just…" Connor slides his hand down to Hank's cock, wraps his fingers around it, and runs his thumb over the head, where Hank is already leaking. "Just fuck me, Hank," he says with a shaky voice. 

"I will," Hank says, because there's nothing he wants more than this right now. "I… I wanna feel you, first."

Hank reaches between Connor's thighs, and pushes the tip of his finger inside him, finding what seems to be a lot of lube and no resistance at all. So he slides his finger the rest of the way in, making Connor moan, and then another, and when he curls his fingers and presses down where he knows the prostate would be in a human, Connor clenches around him, letting out a loud, needy moan.

"Hank," he breathes, his thumb still caressing the head of Hank's cock, pressing against the slit, making Hank groan. "Hank, I need–" Connor moves against Hank's fingers, making them go even deeper inside him. "I need–" 

Damn, and Hank isn't even fucking him yet. 

"I know, baby," Hank says, pulling his fingers out. "I know."

Hank feels selfish, but he can't resist touching Connor's cock with his slick fingers, stroking him slowly just to feel him hard and heavy in his hand.

"Fuck, Con, you're so beautiful," he whispers as Connor moves to thrust into his fist. 

_"Hank,"_ Connor moans, placing his hands on Hank's shoulders and squeezing. _"Please."_

"Okay." Hank holds his own cock by the base to help Connor sink onto him, and Connor breathes heavily as Hank slides down slowly, inch by inch.

"You good, Con?" Hank asks, caressing his back, and Connor nods, a soft smile on his lips.

"So much better now," Connor says. He moves up a few inches and sinks back down, pulling a loud groan from Hank's throat, and smiles to himself. "Fuck, you're big," he whispers, smiling as he shifts a little, another broken moan escaping his mouth.

"You feel so good, Hank," Connor says, panting against Hank's mouth as he leans in closer. "So good inside me, it's– it's hard to think…"

"No need to think, Con…" Hank says, equally as breathless as they move together. "Just focus on how it feels."

And it's almost overwhelming, how good it feels, how tight and hot and wet Connor is around his cock, how soft he is inside, and Hank thinks he could get addicted to this. 

"Hank," Connor says urgently, his LED flickering yellow. "I need you– harder…"

Hank tightens his grip on Connor's waist again, feeling as the synthetic skin retracts under his fingers, and thrusts up into him, pulling him down at the same time. Connor's moans become louder, more desperate, and he holds on to Hank, his eyes closed, completely lost in it.

Hank mouths at his neck, licks every freckle on his shoulders, and kisses everywhere he can reach. He bites Connor's neck until he feels bare plastic under his lips. It probably happens without Connor's knowledge because Connor shudders when Hank's tongue touches his chassis, and Hank sucks as if he could leave a bruise. 

"Hank, fuck, I–" Connor moans, pulling Hank's hair until Hank looks at him, and kisses him again.

Hank knows neither of them is going to last long, but he wants to make Connor come first, so he wraps a hand around Connor's cock, stroking in time with his thrusts.

When Hank pulls back, realizing that Connor hasn't been breathing, he catches a flash of red through the corner of his eye.

"Con…" he says. "Breathe, baby."

Connor takes a sharp breath through his mouth. "This shouldn't be happening," he says, panting.

"What is it?" Hank asks, worried, slowing down his movements.

"It's… overwhelming," Connor says. "Some of my systems are failing, I'm overheating, I'm– _don't stop."_

"Connor–"

"I'm good, Hank," Connor says, urgently, moving insistently to show Hank that he's serious. "I promise, I'm safe, just… don't stop…"

Hank decides to trust him, trust that he's really okay and that he will tell him if he needs to stop. But he keeps an eye on Connor's LED, still spinning red as Connor continues to move on his lap, riding his cock. 

"Hank– close– I'm– _ah–_ " Connor's moans are almost enough to push Hank over the edge. _"Oh, Hank."_

"Yeah, baby," Hank encourages him. "Yeah, baby, I've got you."

_"Hank–"_ Connor says, his voice breaking as he comes all over Hank's hand, clenching around Hank's cock and making Hank moan too. 

"You okay, baby?" Hank asks as Connor leans in, resting his forehead against Hank's. 

"Yes," Connor says, panting, taking a moment to breathe and – Hank thinks – let his biocomponents cool down. Then he smiles. _"You now."_ And he starts moving again, bringing Hank's hand to his mouth to lick it clean. "Come inside me, Hank," he says, licking a stripe of his own come off Hank's finger, watching Hank with half-lidded eyes. "Fill me up. Please."

"Yeah, baby, _fuck–"_

Connor slides two of Hank's fingers into his mouth and sucks, pulling them in deeper until Hank's fingertips touch the back of his throat, and Hank comes with a guttural sound, spilling deep inside him.

Connor pulls Hank's fingers out of his mouth and smiles at him. He doesn't move, wanting to keep Hank inside him for as long as possible.

When Hank catches his breath, Connor kisses him, slow and soft, and Hank still wants so much more, wants to kiss every inch of his body – with _and_ without his skin, wants to make him come in so many different ways, but for now he just holds Connor tightly against him and responds to his sweet kisses.

"You sure you're okay, Con?" Hank asks when Connor pulls back, and lifts his hand to touch Connor's LED with the tip of his index finger. 

"Yellow?" Connor asks. 

"Yeah."

"I'm just making sure everything is working again and resetting priorities," Connor says. "Don't worry."

Hank nods. "Okay." He lowers his hand, caressing Connor's cheek. "I really wanna take a bath now. Come with me?"

Connor smiles at the question – the one Hank always asks. "Yes."

Hank never wants to let him go. 

Connor washes Hank's hair, and claims his own doesn't need to be washed, but lets Hank wash it anyway.

Later, when Connor sits between Hank's legs again and relaxes against him with his back against Hank's chest, Hank nuzzles Connor's hair, moving to his temple to let his lips brush over his LED – bright blue now, like the sky on a sunny day. 

Again, Hank thinks that it's the most beautiful shade of blue he's ever seen. 

It is Hank's favorite color.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hank kissed Connor goodbye before he left for work in the afternoon, he didn't expect Phil would show up at the door while Connor was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PLEASE READ THESE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ THIS CHAPTER:**
> 
> This chapter is where the ATTEMPTED RAPE tag applies. I tried not to make it _too_ graphic, but I wanted to stay true to the story/movie.
> 
> If you've watched the movie, you know what happens when Phil goes to the hotel looking for Edward and finds Vivian alone. This is what happens here, too. I kept a lot of what happened in the movie, with a few changes, and it's Connor's POV, so... it's not good. If that's okay with you, you may proceed to the chapter now :)
> 
> If you haven't watched the movie, here's how it goes: Phil tries to rape Vivian (Connor) AND he hits her in the face when she tries to fight him. Edward (Hank) arrives, and helps her. The things Phil says to her before he does this are really creepy, too. 
> 
> Now, if you're okay with reading this, go ahead.
> 
> But someone asked me for details because this chapter could be triggering for them, so i'm gonna leave a tip here:
> 
> **SPOILERS AHEAD**
> 
> You can stop reading at _"Connor doesn't correct him. Phil wouldn't believe it."_  
>  And you can keep reading at _"The directives disappear just as Phil is pulled away from him, and Connor looks around, disoriented."_  
>  (You can find the line by using the "find in page" tool)
> 
> NOTE: Connor deviates while fighting Phil. Then he talks about remembering some of the things that the other guys did to him, but nothing too graphic. If you think this will make you uncomfortable though, skip until Connor says _"I'm scared of going back there"._
> 
> I hope this helps. And, of course, this is an angsty chapter. So hurt/comfort ahead.

Hank doesn't wake up before Connor does. He knows that, because Connor doesn't sleep, and every morning, before Hank even opens his eyes, Connor is already staring at him, probably scanning him or some shit to make sure he's feeling alright. So when Hank turns over to face Connor and finds him immobile with his eyes closed, he's a little worried.

"Con?" Hank says, lifting his hand to caress Connor's cheek with a feather-light touch.

Connor's eyes open slowly, drowsily. "Hank," he says, a soft smile on his lips. "I'm sorry. I'm running a full diagnostic and disabled most of my functions temporarily… seems like I've lost track of time."

"Don't worry, Con," Hank says. He doesn't really understand what running a diagnostic entails, but he supposes Connor is trying to find out why he had been overheating last night during sex. It’s definitely not something that should be happening to a Traci model. “Take your time, I'll order something for lunch."

So Hank gets up, wraps his fluffy robe around himself and leaves the bedroom.

This is day five. He's been counting, every day, in the back of his mind. He doesn't have a great memory when it comes to numbers or dates, he never memorizes phone numbers, rarely remembers birthdays. But he's been counting – it's impossible not to. 

It's day five, and tomorrow night he will have to take Connor back to the Eden Club.

Hank doesn't order lunch. Instead, he drinks. He doesn't want to see Connor's face when Connor sees him drinking first thing in the morning – noon –, but he can't stop himself. He's too involved, too attached to Connor; he did exactly what he said he shouldn't do. And Connor… Connor feels the same, doesn't he? He _feels._ And he's not even supposed to.

Will his feelings get erased along with his memories, tomorrow night? Would Connor still remember him, despite the memory wipe? Some small part of him, still holding onto memories of their time together? And if Connor does, if Connor… feels… how will he feel about being back at the Eden Club?

_How can Hank leave him there?_

Hank grabs his tablet and sits on the couch. _Can androids have feelings,_ he types into the search bar, a basic choice of words, but it shows results anyway. The media isn't talking much about it – most of what he finds are forums where a few anonymous people talk about their experiences with androids who claimed to have feelings. He finds a few news articles about it too, though – that a few people in Detroit have reported missing androids, or androids that claimed to be developing feelings or became violent before running away. That Cyberlife is calling them _deviants,_ claiming that this is an error in their software, and that androids that show signs of deviancy must be deactivated. They don't explain where it comes from.

Hank wonders how long it'll take Cyberlife to find out about Connor, if he goes back to the Eden Club.

"Hank?" Connor calls, and Hank hears the bedroom door closing. Before Hank can answer, Connor finds him on the couch, and Hank turns off his tablet, setting it on the coffee table next to his glass. He needs to talk to Connor about this, and about tomorrow, but he doesn't know how.

"Have you eaten?" Connor asks, standing in front of Hank, wearing the same Knights of the Black Death shirt from last night. The oversized shirt covers half of Connor's thighs, and Hank wonders if he's wearing _anything_ under it.

"No, I wasn't hungry," Hank says. 

"But you were thirsty," Connor observes, eyeing the half-empty glass of whiskey on the coffee table between them.

"I needed to think."

"What have you been thinking about?" Connor asks. 

Too precious. Not even nagging Hank about his drinking even though Hank can see the disappointment in his eyes. The sadness. The worry. Connor knows that telling Hank to stop drinking isn't going to work. So he tries to make Hank talk, tries to help Hank work through whatever is _causing_ him to drink – only Hank doesn't let him help. Hank never lets anybody help.

"Just, you know…" Hank says, in a light, playful tone, trying to avoid his real feelings behind it. "About how tomorrow is our last day together and you'll finally be rid of me."

He knows Connor sees right through him. 

"I won't let them erase you completely, Hank," Connor says, moving to sit next to him. "And when I see you again, I'll remember you."

"If I didn't have to go back to Detroit, Con, I'd pay to have you here for another week."

Connor's smile is sad and it breaks Hank's heart. 

"I got so used to your presence," Connor says. "In so little time."

Hank pulls him closer, an arm around Connor's back, and Connor rests his head on Hank's shoulder. Fuck, he's gonna miss this.

"I did too, Con," Hank says. "I don't know what I'm gonna do without you."

It's like his life has no meaning without Connor. Damn, who is he kidding? He knows that for the past three years his life has had no meaning at all. 

But this week was different. 

"You're going to take care of yourself," Connor says. "Please. So we can see each other again."

 _I'll try,_ he wants to say. _I don't know if I can, without you._

"I'll come back as soon as I can," he says instead. 

Connor nods. "I'll be waiting."

When Hank turns on his phone again, after having lunch at Connor’s insistence, the amount of text messages and missed calls – both from Phil and from his secretary – is almost enough to make Hank want to turn it off again and throw it out the window.

Then a new text arrives from Phil. 

_You got a meeting with Morse in two hours, Hank, for fucks sake get your ass over here_  
_1:12 P.M._

Hank groans. And then he gets ready, reluctantly, because he has no other choice.

"Alright," he says, his arms around Connor's waist, holding him tight as Connor fixes his blue tie. "I'll try not to take too long, okay?" 

"Okay," Connor says, leaning in just slightly. "I'm gonna miss you," he whispers. 

Hank kisses him, not as softly as Connor usually does, but deeper, more urgently, a promise of what's to come later when he gets back to the hotel. And it's hard to pull himself away, but he manages, telling himself that when he comes back, they can have so much more.

"Call me if you need anything," Hank says, as Connor smiles at him, his sweet brown eyes shining. "And I mean _anything,_ okay? I–" 

_I love you._

_Fuck, I really, really do._

"I'm gonna miss you too, Con."

He presses a soft kiss to Connor's temple where his LED is glowing blue, grabs his coat, and leaves. It's gonna be a long afternoon without Connor.

×

"Hank come on, you requested this meeting and you won't even tell me what it's about?" Phil says, close to freaking out – there's no other word for it – when Hank arrives in his office. "How am I supposed to help you when I'm unprepared?" 

"I don't need your help," Hank says simply. "I wanna talk to Jim Morse alone."

"What the fuck, Hank?" Phil says. "You've never done this before!" 

"Well, I think I'm ready for some changes." Hank smiles. "Aren't you?"

Jim Morse brings his lawyer and his grandson, but agrees to speak with Hank alone. Hank knows the meeting won't last long – Jim Morse will either accept his offer or refuse it – but he offers him coffee anyway, before taking a seat in front of him at the large table.

"Mr. Morse," Hank says, taking a couple of seconds to choose his words. "My interests in your company have changed."

"Well, what is it that you're after now, Mr. Anderson?"

"I no longer wish to buy your company and take it apart," Hank says. "But if I don't, someone else will, as it's still extremely vulnerable. So I want to help you. I'd like for us to work together."

Jim Morse frowns at him. "Why?" 

"Let's just say I… had a change of heart," Hank says.

"The young man you took to dinner," Morse says. "Does he have anything to do with it?" 

Hank smiles before he can stop himself. "Connor, he… definitely helped me make this decision, yes."

Jim Morse smiles too. "David told me about him. Don't let him go, Mr. Anderson. He seems like a lovely young man."

"Yes, he is," Hank says. "I'm very lucky."

Hank definitely doesn't want to let him go.

"But I think we can leave the details up to the others," Hank says. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Morse. I'm looking forward to working with you."

When Mr. Morse happily announces "Mr. Anderson and I are building ships together! Great big ships!" as they leave the meeting room, Hank's eyes find Phil, and Phil _glares_ at him. 

Oh, well. He can deal with this later.

×××

Connor changes into one of the soft robes and sits on the couch to wait for Hank, content to just watch whatever TV shows he can find to pass the time. He makes plans for tonight – he could order food for Hank, light some candles, and make it a very romantic dinner. Maybe Hank would fuck him on the dinner table, or maybe Hank would carry him to bed… Connor smiles to himself at the thought. 

He wants to call Hank and tell him _hey so you told me to call if I needed anything and I really need you to come back right now because I miss you._

And then the doorbell rings. 

Hank never rings the doorbell, he doesn't have to. Connor thinks it must be one of the cleaning androids, so he gets up to open the door. 

Several warnings flash in his HUD when his eyes meet Phil’s..

"Where's Hank?" Phil asks, walking into the room without being invited.

"I thought he was with you," Connor says, standing by the door, holding it open, his thirium pump pounding so hard in his chest he can hear its thumping. _Please leave,_ he wants to say. Phil would laugh at him if he did.

"Oh, Hank is definitely not with me," Phil says, walking around as if this was _his_ hotel room. Connor wonders how upset Hank would be if Connor called security and asked them to make Phil leave. "If Hank was with me – I mean, _when_ he was with me, he didn't blow off billion dollar deals! So I figured...Hank must be with _you_ , actually."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Connor lies. His mind is racing, but his body doesn’t seem to want to move. He forces himself to close the door, because by now he just knows Phil isn’t going anywhere.

"Oh, I think you know, Connor," Phil says. "But well, I'll just wait for Hank right here, so I can try to talk some _sense_ into him."

"Right," Connor says, mostly to himself, and moves to sit on the couch again. "I'm sure he will be back soon."

"You know, Connor, Hank didn't do this kind of shit before you came along," Phil says, sitting next to him. "So I'm sure you have something to do with it."

Connor slides to the end of the couch to put more space between them. He doesn't call Hank, but he texts him. 

_Please come home. Now._  
_5:38 P.M._

He doesn't even realize he called the hotel room their "home" until the text is sent. 

"I highly doubt that whatever decisions Hank makes at work have something to do with me," Connor tells Phil, wrapping his robe tighter around himself to cover more of his chest. "We don't discuss business. My model is not qualified for that."

Phil chuckles. "Of course not," he says. "I worked my ass off all week so Hank would have a chance to buy that fucking company, you know. While Hank was here doing what? Sleeping until noon every day? Getting drunk and fucking you in every single room of this damn penthouse?" 

Connor doesn't correct him. Phil wouldn't believe it.

"Going out on _dates_ with you?" Phil continues. "I wonder if you're really that special. If you're as good as you're advertised to be. Maybe if you are, I'll forgive him. Maybe then I won't care so much about losing millions of dollars."

Phil moves closer to him, and Connor avoids his eyes, fighting the urge to text Hank again. He probably should have called for help. He shouldn't have opened the door in the first place. 

"Because I gotta be honest with you, Connor. Right now, I really do care. Right now, I'm really fucking pissed. So maybe if you're really good for me…"

Phil reaches for Connor's thigh, slipping his hand under the robe to touch Connor's bare skin. Connor's stress levels rise, and he wants to push Phil's hand away, but his directives tell him not to. 

"Don't touch me," Connor says anyway, forced out quietly, moving to stand up, to get away from him. The directive flashes red in front of his eyes, and Phil's arm around his waist stops him as Phil stands next to him. 

"Get off me!" Connor says, trying to push him away, but Phil grabs his arms and turns him around. 

"How dare you say no to me?" Phil says, throwing Connor back on the couch and moving to climb on top of him. "You fucking piece of plastic!" 

Connor struggles against him but Phil holds him down easily – Connor's model wasn't made to be stronger than humans. He wasn't made to say no, wasn't made to–

"Did Hank fuck you on this couch?" Phil asks, his smile full of malice as he uses his body to press Connor down against the cushions. "Or am I gonna be the first? So selfish of Hank, keeping you all to himself."

"Get away from me!" Connor yells, trying to free his wrists. Phil is still stronger than he is, but the way Connor fights him seems to destabilize him a bit. 

"Stop. Fighting me!" Phil says, and the directives distract Connor enough for him not to see when Phil clenches his fist and aims for his face. 

Connor can't read the warnings popping up, his HUD glitching for a second when Phil's fist connects with his nose, and Connor feels thirium running down his face. 

**THIRIUM LEVELS: 99%**

"You fucking plastic toy!" Phil yells. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Connor doesn't have time to pay attention to his stress levels, or the error warnings, or what biocomponents are being damaged, if any. He wants to punch Phil back, and the directives repeat themselves in front of his eyes, telling him to stop fighting, and Connor freezes for a moment, his software trying to force him to stop. He fights his own programming, trying to push Phil away again, until he sees what seems to be a red grid in front of him, like a wall with his directives written on it.

**> Stop fighting**

**> Stop fighting**

**> Stop fighting**

Somehow he knows what he has to do. He punches the wall where his directives are, one, two, three times, until the grid breaks into pixels and falls to the floor. 

The directives disappear just as Phil is pulled away from him, and Connor looks around, disoriented.

"Get off him, you piece of shit!"

It's Hank, but Connor didn't hear him come in – and neither did Phil, apparently. Connor sits up just in time to watch Hank punch Phil in the face. 

"Get the fuck out of here!" Hank yells.

Phil looks _offended,_ touching his cheek carefully as he stares at Hank like he’s insane. "Come on, man, it's plastic! I gave you ten years of my life! I'm your friend!"

"Fuck you!" Hank says. "You were never my friend! I made you a very rich man doing exactly what you love! And now you _dare_ come here and hurt the only thing I care about in this goddamn world, just because you're pissed at me! You only care about your fucking money!" 

"Hank, come on, don't tell me you fell in love with a fucking Traci model," Phil says, incredulous. Connor thinks Phil would be laughing at the situation if the circumstances were different. "You're gonna have to take it back to the Eden Club, Hank! It's a fucking sex toy!" 

Connor sees it coming – but Phil doesn't. Hank grabs Phil by the front of his shirt and punches him again, right in his nose this time, hard enough to break it – and Connor thinks it is actually broken judging by how much it bleeds. He doesn’t have the energy to scan Phil right now.

"I warned you," Hank says, breathing heavily, "never to call him that again. Get out of here, Philip."

"I can't fucking believe–" Phil says, covering half his face with his hands. 

"Get. The fuck. Out!" Hank pushes Phil towards the door, almost making him lose his balance and fall.

"Hank–"

"I swear to God if I see you again, I'll break every fucking bone in your body,” Hank says, slamming the door as Phil leaves.

"Con," Hank runs back to him, and Connor looks down at his own hands, realizing they're shaking. His HUD is covered in warnings, but there’s nothing where the directives should be. "Connor, are you alright?" 

Connor nods, but his eyes fill with tears and he can see the red glow from his LED through the corner of his eye.

"Connor–" Hank says, worried. "Fuck, you're bleeding, how do I–" 

"It's okay, Hank," Connor says, his voice shaking too. "The chassis will repair itself, no serious damage has been done, I'm– I'm fine–" he chokes back a sob.

**STRESS LEVELS: 89%**

_Definitely not fine._

"I'll be right back," Hank says, and Connor tries to understand what's going on. He can't see any directives anymore, not even the main rules that Cyberlife set for all HR400 models. And he _feels_ so much more than he did before, and his chest aches with it. He realizes this must be what humans call emotional pain.

"Connor," Hank says, just to get his attention before approaching him again, and sits next to him on the couch, a damp towel in his hand. 

Connor lets Hank wipe the thirium off his face with the towel, then wipe his tears away with his thumbs, and press a soft kiss to his cheek. 

His feelings – old and new – are overwhelming. He had felt so scared, and now it feels like even though Phil left, the fear is still with him. And he’s angry – at Phil, and at the injustice of it all, and he blames himself for opening the door, and he's terrified of going back to the Eden Club. He feels dirty, and he remembers exactly where Phil's hands touched him, like it's burning the synthetic skin away from his chassis, and it makes him shudder. He doesn’t know how to stop feeling so much, doesn’t even know if he can stop it now. 

"Why are humans like this," Connor says, clasping his hands together on his lap to stop them from trembling. "Why do they treat us like–" 

_Like pieces of plastic. Like sex toys._ That's what he's supposed to be, according to Cyberlife, but it's _not_ what he is. He sees it now.

It's not fair.

"I don't know, Con," Hank says, resting his hands on top of Connor's. "Most humans are assholes, really. Humanity is fucked up."

Connor lets out a shaky breath, closing his eyes. And then the memories come back to him. Not all of them, and none of them complete. Only fragments of flashbacks of random men touching him, hurting him, telling him to do things that he didn't want to, but had to do anyway, trapped in his software. He lets out a broken sob, and Hank's fingers caress his wrist, just a light touch to reassure him he's here. 

**STRESS LEVELS: 94%**

"Hank, I–" he tries, and his voice breaks. "I remember."

"What do you remember, Con?" Hank asks. "What is it?" 

"The– the men… who rented me before… the things they did, I… I remember…"

Connor moves closer to Hank and presses his face to his chest, breathing heavily, trying to calm himself, trying to cool down his biocomponents. Hank wraps his arms around him, his hands caressing Connor's back – a soft, soothing touch. 

Connor takes a shaky breath. "I'm scared of going back there."

"I'm not taking you back, Connor," Hank says, his voice tight as if he's trying not to cry too. "I don't care what I have to do, I'm not taking you back there."

"Hank–" Connor sobs against his shirt, wishing it was true, that Hank could really keep him here forever. Hank just holds him, kissing the top of his head, promising over and over that everything will be okay, that he will never let men like Phil get anywhere near Connor for as long as he lives. 

Connor wants to believe that Hank can keep this promise. He can't, Connor knows, but for tonight, Hank's fingers running through his hair, combined with the sound of Hank's heartbeat, is enough to soothe Connor, to calm him down, and after a while he stops crying, leaning against Hank, his LED still red.

"How are you feeling, baby?" Hank asks, and Connor wonders if Hank used the term of endearment – that until now he has only used during sex – on purpose or not.

"I can still feel his hands on me," Connor whispers, like a secret, against Hank's chest.

"That piece of shit–" Hank kisses the top of Connor's head again. "I'll prepare a warm bath for you," Hank says, softer now, still caressing Connor's back. "It'll help you relax, and then we can go to bed, okay?"

Connor raises his head to look at Hank. "Will you take a bath with me?" 

"Yeah, baby," Hank says, smiling softly. "If you want me to, yes."

So they end up in the bathtub, in their usual position, with Connor leaning against Hank, his back against Hank's chest so Hank can wrap his arms around him. It helps him feel a little bit safer.

"I was making plans for tonight," Connor says, disappointed – in himself, and the whole situation. "I wanted to have a candlelit dinner, and… just make tonight really special."

"I wanted to make tonight special, too," Hank says. "I wasn't far from here when I got your text. I was about to buy flowers for you, but when I saw your text I knew that something was wrong, somehow. So I dropped everything and came back as fast as I could."

"I shouldn't have opened the door," Connor says. "I thought maybe it was one of the androids that clean the room. I should have asked before opening the door, I–" 

"Connor," Hank says, "it's his fault, not yours."

"I could have–" 

"Look at me, Con," Hank says, and Connor shifts in his arms, turning his head to look at him. "It's _Philip's_ fault," he repeats. "Not yours. You didn't do anything wrong. Okay?"

Connor nods. "You’re really not going to work with him anymore?" 

"Hell, no!" Hank says. "I meant it when I said I don't wanna see his face again. Wish I had punched him more."

"Do you remember when we talked about me… having feelings?" Connor asks. "And… making choices?" 

Hank hums in agreement, finding Connor's hand under the water and holding it.

"Something happened, when he–" Connor says. "When–" 

"What happened, Con?" Hank asks. 

"My directives kept telling me not to fight him," Connor says. "But I had to… I had to make him stop. I broke something in my software, I think. I don't have directives anymore, Hank. I look for them, but they're not here. And I feel so much more intensely than before. I feel… It's like… Like I really am alive."

"I think you really are," Hank says, sliding his fingers between Connor's. "This morning when you got up, I was reading about this, Con. There are more androids like you. It seems like it started in Detroit – androids starting to have feelings and ‘disobeying’ their directives. Cyberlife is calling it _deviancy._ No one knows how it spreads or how exactly it started, but it's happening in other states too. Of course, Cyberlife claims they're _defective machines that need to be deactivated."_

"What do you think of that?" Connor asks, hesitantly. 

"I don't really know much about androids, Con," Hank says. "If you say you have feelings, I believe you. I would be stupid not to, having spent the whole week with you. I don't give a fuck about Cyberlife and whatever shit they say. You're alive to me, baby."

Connor sighs, closing his eyes, content to just lean against Hank and feel him breathe.

"Con?" Hank says after a little while, nuzzling Connor's hair. "I want to go to the Eden Club tomorrow, but I don't want to take you with me. Will you be okay staying here without me for a little bit?" 

Connor frowns. "But, Hank, I'm supposed to go back tomorrow."

"I told you, you're not going back," Hank says. "I'm gonna buy you."

Connor shifts again, turning just enough to face Hank, still frowning at him. "Hank, you can't buy androids from the Eden Club. They're not– _we_ are not for sale."

"Everything is for sale if you pay enough money, Con," Hank says. "I told you, I'll do whatever it takes. I'll go there and I'll only come back when I have a document stating that you belong to me."

"Hank, even if they agree…" Connor says, shaking his head. "It's gonna cost you a fortune. Probably the price of a brand new android. I don't even know how much that costs. And I'm not the regular HR400."

"I don't care how much it costs, Con."

"Hank, it's not worth it–" 

"You're worth it, baby," Hank says. "And if there's no other way, we'll go to Detroit, find a way to get rid of your tracker, grab Sumo and move somewhere else."

"Hank, you're not serious,” Connor says. Hank has to be joking. Right?

Hank stares at him, not a hint of a smile on his face.

"I can't let you do that," Connor says. "I can't let you ruin your life because of me."

"Leaving you behind is what would ruin it," Hank holds him tighter, pulls him closer until Connor is leaning against his chest again. Hank lowers his voice, his lips close to Connor's ear. "Remember how you said I changed something in you? You've changed something in me too, Con. I can't just leave you there and walk away. I _can't."_

Connor pulls Hank's hand up and holds it against his own chest, letting Hank feel his heartbeat, and closes his eyes again. The memories of what Phil did to him don’t leave his mind – Connor thinks it'll take him a long time to get rid of them. But staying with Hank helps, and being in Hank's arms makes most of the bad thoughts go away.

Hank drinks just a little bit – just to help him sleep, he says, and when Connor says he shouldn't be drinking so much, he replies with _"I haven't been drinking nearly as much as I usually do, Con",_ so Connor decides to go easy on him until they go back to Detroit – if Connor is even allowed to go with him. It wasn't an easy day for either of them, anyway. 

In bed, they cuddle under the blankets facing each other, only the blue light of Connor's LED illuminating the room. Hank says he'll stay awake until Connor enters stasis, but Connor knows Hank is already almost falling asleep.

"We could stay here a couple more days, you know," Hank says, almost slurring his words with how sleepy he is. "There are places I'd like to take you."

"I'd be happy anywhere, with you," Connor whispers, and kisses Hank's lips softly.

Hank smiles, not opening his eyes after the kiss. "Me too, baby."

Connor caresses Hank's face, touching his beard with his fingertips.

"Damn, I'm falling asleep," Hank murmurs. "I'm sorry, baby."

"Sleep, Hank." Connor presses his lips to Hank's again, an even softer kiss than before.

He watches as Hank falls asleep, runs his fingers through Hank's hair, smiles at how beautiful Hank looks when he sleeps. He snuggles even closer to Hank, pressing the side of his head – where his audio processors are, just behind his ear – to Hank's chest so he can listen to his heartbeat.

"I love you," Connor whispers, when he knows for sure that Hank is asleep and won't hear him. He doesn't know why he says it – he doesn't know how he knows for sure that this is how he feels. He just knows that while researching human feelings and human relationships, he realized he loves Hank. That he's in love with him. 

And he should probably say it while Hank is awake, too, because Hank deserves to feel loved, but something holds him back. Deep down inside, he's scared that Hank might not feel exactly the same. So he whispers it like a secret while Hank is asleep, he repeats it over and over like a mantra inside his head, but he doesn't tell Hank yet. 

He enters stasis monitoring Hank's heartbeat in the background – his favorite sound in the world. Better than jazz. Maybe just not better than Hank's voice. Definitely not better than Hank's voice when he calls him _baby._

But wonderful all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Sorry for the super long warnings.  
> Watch Detroit Evolution if you like Reed900!  
> Stay hydrated. Stay home if you can. Stay safe <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank comes back from the Eden Club with very good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys... Guys. This is the end.
> 
> Important notes:  
> This fic wouldn't have been the same (or even possible) without my girlfriend [@empathalitis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/empathalitis/) (who was also my alpha reader this whole time), and my friend and beta reader [@JJCross](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjcross). I can't thank you two enough. <3
> 
> And if you've read this fic up to this point, thank you so much! I really enjoyed writing this AU and I hope you guys are enjoying reading it too. And now, to celebrate... I bring you 4K of smut!

Connor packs Hank's bags while he waits for Hank to come back from the Eden Club. He knows Hank said they could stay in the hotel for a couple more days, but Connor desperately needs something to do. He's scared of being alone now, scared that Phil might come back when Hank's not around.

But the only person who comes back is Hank, an hour later, with a big smile on his face. 

"Congratulations," Hank says, showing Connor a signed document on his phone as Connor meets him at the door. "You're officially mine now!" 

"Hank–" Connor says, emotion filling his chest, warm and happy and wonderful. "How did you–?" 

"Told the manager I wanted to buy you," Hank says. "He said you weren't for sale, obviously. I insisted, saying I really needed an android companion and that I was already used to having you around. Said I'd pay whatever amount of money he wanted… pretty sure he started suspecting I had done something to you at that point. The guy flat out asked me if I'd broken you."

"What did you say?" 

"He looked you up. But he found out something weird, Con – he said your tracker hasn't been working since yesterday evening. They literally can't track you anymore – the Eden Club _or_ Cyberlife. The guy asked me what I did; I lied and said that I did damage you beyond repair, but that I'd pay for a brand new android, to avoid any trouble. He seemed happy with the deal, that fucker. These people don't care about androids, you know, as long as they're not losing their damn money." 

"How much?" Connor asks.

"I'm not telling you, Con. It was worth it. I don't regret it. I never will."

Connor doesn't feel worthy, but he accepts it. "Thank you, Hank."

"Hey, Con," Hank says, his voice taking a serious dip as he moves closer. "Just because I bought you doesn't mean you have to stay with me, you know. I'm setting you free to do whatever you want."

Connor chuckles. "Hank, of course I'm staying…"

"You're not my property, Connor," Hank says. "You're not anybody's property anymore. If you want to leave–" 

"I'm not leaving you." 

"You can. I won't pretend I deserve someone like you, Con. I'm a fucking mess, most days I can barely function. But I want you to be happy. You can pass as a human just fine, and if your tracker doesn't work anymore, I don't know, if you want to leave, maybe we can figure something out–"

"Hank, Hank–" Connor interrupts him, moving closer to rest his hands on Hank's shoulders and pull him close. "I _want_ to stay with you."

Blue eyes stare into his own, so soft, so vulnerable. "Are you sure?" he asks.

Connor smiles. "It's the only thing I'm sure of."

And Connor thinks Hank understands.

Hank understands, because when Connor leans in, seeking his lips, Hank lets him, pulling him closer and sighing into his mouth as their tongues touch. Hank's hand rests on the back of Connor's neck, fingers rubbing against his skin, and a small panel opens, just large enough for two of Hank's fingers to slide inside. Electricity shoots through Connor's body, making him shudder in Hank's arms as he lets out a surprised, high-pitched moan. 

Hank pulls back and removes his fingers immediately. "Shit, Con, what the fuck did I do? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Hank," Connor says, burying his hands in Hank's hair, "it's just… that's my neck port."

"Oh, fuck, I didn't meant to–" 

"No, Hank, it felt _good_."

"Oh." The realization makes Hank's eyes widen in surprise, his pupils dilating. "Tell me what to do," he says, breathless.

"I haven't actually done this before, but…" Connor reaches for Hank's wrist, guiding Hank's hand and making him slide his fingers inside the panel again. _"Oh– Hank–"_ Connor's grip tightens around Hank's wrist and he moans as Hank moves his fingers, caressing the wires inside.

"Fuck, baby…" Hank's voice sounds low and rough, and Connor loves it – wants to hear him, just like this.

Connor kisses Hank again, pressing his body against his and moaning into his mouth as Hank holds him tightly and thrusts his fingers in and out of his neck port. For a moment, he loses himself in it, until Hank pulls back, breaking the kiss, panting against Connor's mouth. 

"Bed," he says simply, pulling his fingers out. "I mean. Do you, um–" Hank clears his throat. "Do you want to–"

"Yes," Connor says, smiling and grabbing Hank's hand, and takes Hank's fingers – now covered in thirium – into his mouth, licking and sucking them clean.

"Fuck, Con…" Hank breathes, holding his gaze with half-lidded eyes. 

Connor lets Hank's fingers slide out of his mouth, no trace of thirium on them. "Yes, Hank. Bed. Please."

He doesn't wait for Hank to lead, though. He pulls Hank into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. He only stops when they're standing next to the bed, and he kisses Hank again as he undresses him, quickly getting rid of Hank's jacket and shirt.

"Eager, are we?" Hank breathes against Connor's lips as Connor's fingers work fast on Hank's belt.

"Yeah," Connor says, laughing as he finally manages to push Hank's pants down, wrapping his hand around Hank's half-hard cock through the fabric of his underwear and squeezing softly, making Hank groan. "Yeah, seems like we are."

When they get rid of all their clothes, Hank pushes Connor into the bed, lowering himself on top of him, their bodies pressed together. 

Hank moves his hand up Connor's body slowly, exploring, and then scrapes his nails down that soft chest. Connor gasps, looking up at Hank with half-lidded eyes, and Hank kisses him hard, groaning as Connor moves his hand down to wrap it around his cock again.

Hank breaks the kiss to press his lips to Connor's neck, sucking on his skin, determined to leave a mark. Hank groans, thrusting into Connor's first, biting Connor's neck before he lets go.

"Okay, Con, hold on," Hank says, reaching for Connor's wrist to stop him before pulling his hand back up. "Just let me take care of you a little bit, okay?"

"I want to touch you, Hank," Connor says quietly.

"I know, baby, I know." Hank kisses along Connor's collarbone, breathing hotly against synthetic skin. "You will. I just don't want this to be over so fast." He presses wet kisses down Connor's chest, lets his lips brush against one of Connor's nipples, and Connor shudders and moans under him.

Then Hank kisses right where Connor's thirium pump is beating fast, and the synthetic skin disappears, exposing white plastic. Breathing deeply helps cool him down a little, and he tries to focus on it while his fans work fast to keep his biocomponents from overheating. Hank kisses another spot experimentally, just to see Connor's skin retracting again, exposing more of his chassis to him.

"Connor, your skin," Hank says, running his fingers against the exposed chassis, pulling a soft moan from Connor.

Connor looks down at himself. "Oh, I'm sorry, Hank, I didn't mean to–" 

"No, it's okay," Hank says, pressing another kiss to the exposed chassis, right where one plate meets the other, and Connor whimpers. "It's okay. Deactivate your skin, baby."

Connor doesn't waste time questioning it. He does as he's told, the skin of his torso retracting and disappearing, exposing his chassis to Hank. Hank stares at him for a moment, eyes focused on the glowing blue circle of his thirium pump regulator.

"You're gorgeous, baby," Hank says, leaning in again to press kisses against Connor's chest as Connor wraps his legs around Hank's waist. His hands clutch at Hank's back, nails digging into his skin, and Hank's cock presses insistently against Connor's, but he knows Hank won't let him touch yet. 

Hank licks along the seams where his panels meet, wet and soft, and Connor _whines_ , arching his back as his eyes flutter shut.

 _"Hank,"_ he says, feeling breathless as his breathing simulation struggles to catch up. Hank's mouth on his exposed chassis is sending warnings to his HUD, his internal temperature rising with every touch. He wonders if he can overheat from this. Right now, he doesn't care. He forces himself to open his eyes and look at Hank. "Would you touch my wires again?"

"Yeah, baby, anything you want," Hank says, moving up to kiss Connor's neck, right where synthetic skin fades into white plastic. 

Connor slides his hand between their bodies, and presses it against the panel right under his regulator. The panel slides to the side, exposing his insides to Hank, and Hank stares at the wires there, worried.

"This… seems a lot more serious than just fingering your neck port," he says.

Connor wonders if he went too far. "We don't have to–" 

"No, baby," Hank says, adjusting his position to be able to touch Connor's wires while still leaning over him. "Just let me know if I do anything wrong, okay?" 

"Okay." Connor smiles, but just for a second, because Hank rubs his fingers against something inside him that makes Connor whimper again.

"Like this?" Hank asks as his hand disappears inside Connor's body, his fingers sliding between the wires, tugging at them softly. 

"Y-Yes," Connor's voice breaks, more of a moan than a word, his back arching under Hank's touch.

"Fuck– can you come just from this?"

"I… probably…" Connor whimpers quietly as he watches Hank's hand disappear inside him. "Wanna find out?" he adds, wanting to tease, but only managing to sound desperate, pleading, and completely breathless.

“Yeah, baby…" Hank uses his free hand to hold himself up on the bed, moving the other one slowly inside Connor, fingers brushing and rubbing against his wires, and Connor's eyes flutter closed as he moans again, totally aware that Hank is watching his every movement. Connor reaches for him again, the bare chassis of his hands resting on Hank's shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin. Hank's hand slides deeper inside him, fingers wrapping around several wires at the same time, squeezing, stroking them together.

 _"Hank–"_ Connor moans his name, gripping Hank's shoulders hard enough to leave bruises. "Your fingers feel s– _ah_ … so good…" 

Hank tugs softly at the wires he's holding and Connor whimpers, his eyes rolling back in his head, his entire body feeling hot, too hot, warnings appearing in his HUD about the temperature of his biocomponents. He tries to breathe, but it's too much to focus on, the pleasure spreading from the wires Hank is touching to his whole body.

Then Hank pulls his hand out, grabs Connor's waist and flips them over, and Connor moves with him, straddling his hips as Hank lies on his back, propped up on the pillows. Before Connor can think, Hank has his hand inside him again, caressing the wires, grabbing a few between his fingers and rubbing them against each other, making Connor moan again.

Hank's free hand grabs Connor's and brings it to his mouth, kissing each one of Connor's bare fingers, making Connor shudder on top of him. 

"You're beautiful, Hank," Connor says in a whisper. He presses his free hand to Hank's chest, feeling the warmth of his skin, the pounding of his heart, the softness of his chest hair – everything heightened by the lack of synthetic skin.

"No," Hank says. _"You_ are."

Connor frowns at him a little – he will have to teach Hank how to accept compliments. "Hank–" 

Hank's fingers wrap tightly around Connor's wrist as he takes two of his fingers into his mouth, giving his wires a hard tug at the same time, almost hard enough to unplug them. Connor's mind goes blank as his HUD goes red, and he throws his head back and whimpers loud because it's all he can do.

Connor bites his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming as Hank squeezes his wires, stroking them together and sucking his fingers deeper into his mouth at the same time. Hank's fingertips rub against the inside of Connor's wrist insistently until a panel there opens too. Connor feels more than hears Hank gasp in surprise around his fingers, but it doesn't stop him. Hank immediately slides two fingers into Connor's wrist, pushing through the delicate wires, watching Connor with half lidded eyes.

All his experience and his Traci protocols couldn't have prepared him for how Hank makes him feel. Connor can't think. He can't breathe. He's vaguely aware that his breathing simulation has stopped working and that his thirium pump is pounding in his chest, and he can barely see Hank through all the glitching warnings in his HUD saying he's close to overheating. He can feel it, the electricity of Hank's body running through him, burning hot, making him squirm with every movement of Hank's hands against his wires, every movement of Hank's tongue against his fingers.

Connor can function just enough to move his hips, grinding against Hank's hard cock, hoping to make Hank lose control just a little bit, feeling proud of himself when Hank moans around the fingers in his mouth. Connor loses himself to it and Hank holds him there, right on the edge, and Connor tastes thirium as he squeezes his lip harder between his teeth.

**THIRIUM LEVELS: 99%**

"Hank–" Connor's voice comes out as a broken moan. "Don't… don't st– _ah, Hank–_ don't stop."

Hank's hand tightens around Connor's wrist, fingers still buried inside it as he pulls Connor's fingers out of his mouth.

"I won't," Hank says, sounding hoarse, breathless. "I won't, baby. I've got you."

And he guides Connor's fingers into his mouth again, swallowing around them as he strokes his wires. The pleasure runs through Connor's body in waves until it's too much, too hot, and his movements are uncoordinated as he keeps grinding against Hank's cock – still making Hank groan quietly around his fingers. Hank tugs again at Connor's wires, pushes his fingers deeper inside his wrist. It's overwhelming in the best way, and Connor is writhing, whimpering in pure bliss. He closes his eyes and lets the electricity run through him, his LED flickering rapidly, glowing bright red as he fights to stay quiet but the loud moans escape him anyway. He can't help it, can't focus enough to stop it, his fingers pressing deeper inside Hank's mouth as his whole body shakes with mind-blowing pleasure. Hank holds him there – his cock twitching against Hank's as he comes all over Hank's stomach. Connor doesn't even know how long it lasts, and he never wants it to end. 

Then Hank stops, pulls his fingers out, lets Connor's fingers slip from his mouth, and both Connor's panels slide shut, the synthetic skin reappearing to cover them again. 

"Breathe, baby," Hank says as they make eye contact again, and Connor smiles at him, restarting his breathing simulation with a shaky breath. Hank reaches for him, resting a hand against the back of Connor's neck, and pulls him down for a kiss. Connor melts against him as their tongues touch, and he moans softly, pushing deeper, seeking the warmth of Hank's mouth. 

Hank captures his bottom lip between his teeth and tugs, reaching down to wrap his thirium coated fingers around Connor's cock, stroking him slowly as Connor squirms with oversensitivity, but doesn't ask him to stop.

"How was it, baby?" Hank asks softly, hot breath against Connor's mouth.

"So good," Connor replies in a whisper. "I didn't know I could come like this… It's perfect, Hank. I want to touch you now. Please let me."

"Yeah, baby," Hank whispers back.

Connor reaches down to wrap his fingers around Hank's cock, watching him as he strokes him slowly. 

"Baby– _ah…"_ Hank moans, hands resting on Connor's thighs, squeezing. Hank is so warm in his hand, so warm everywhere, Connor wants to be with him like this for the rest of their lives.

Sliding down to kneel between Hank's legs, Connor places his hand around Hank's cock again, watching the pre-come pooling on the tip, maintaining eye contact as Hank breathes heavily. He makes sure his mouth is lubricated enough before licking Hank's cock from base to tip, then wraps his lips around the head. Hank reaches for him, burying his fingers in Connor's hair. Connor adjusts his internal temperature, making his mouth warmer for Hank, and lets Hank's cock slide deeper inside. 

"Oh fuck, Connor…" Hank says breathlessly, and Connor holds his gaze as he takes him all the way in, feeling the tip of Hank's cock rubbing against the back of his throat. Even now that he doesn't have directives anymore, that his programming doesn't tell him that he likes this, it still feels so _good._

"Connor, _shit._ Fucking androi–" Hank is interrupted, a loud moan escaping him as Connor swallows around his cock, throat tight and warm around him. 

Connor's soft chuckle makes his throat vibrate a little, but never makes its way out of his mouth. Connor holds Hank there, deep inside, for a few seconds before moving back up, never breaking eye contact, and keeps just the head in his mouth again, caressing it with his tongue. 

Hank's hands curl in Connor's hair as he groans, and Connor starts moving his hand on Hank's cock too, stroking him up and down as Hank leaks pre-come into his mouth. Connor hums softly, enjoying the taste of it, making notes in his mind about how Hank responds to each movement he makes, easily learning what Hank likes even now that he's free from the Traci programming. 

Hank watches him, and Connor retracts the skin of his hand again just to feel Hank's cock against the sensitive, bare chassis of his fingers. Small blue lights glow inside his hand, a contrast to the ever flickering yellow of the LED on his temple.

And then Hank's hand slides down from Connor's hair, fingers searching, pressing insistently against the back of his neck until his neck port slides open again, and Hank rubs the tips of two fingers against it. Connor's whimper is muffled by Hank's cock, and Connor takes him all the way in again. 

Hank breaks eye contact first, resting his head against the pillows with a soft moan, eyes fluttering closed. But Connor keeps staring at him, watching his reactions, learning more about him.

Connor forces himself to focus despite the burning pleasure running through his wires as Hank's fingers slide in and out of his neck, over and over. Connor moves half way up and then down again, finding a steady rhythm, letting the tip of Hank's cock touch the back of his throat and keeping him there just for a little while, hot and heavy against his tongue, before resuming his slow movements, taking his time. Hank breathes heavily, moaning with every slide of Connor's tongue against the underside of his cock, the movements of his fingers in Connor's neck getting less coordinated every second. When Hank looks at him again, Connor blinks slowly, letting Hank slide all the way into his mouth again. 

"Jesus, Con," Hank breathes, his eyes rolling back in his head, fingers pushing harder inside Connor's neck. _"Fuck, baby."_

Connor moans again, pleasure running through his body in waves with every press of Hank's fingers, and he swallows around Hank's cock, pulling him in even deeper, tightening around him. Hank's hips move up just slightly, and Connor knows that although Hank has been doing a great job keeping his hips still, this is not what he really needs right now.

Connor pulls back completely, licking his lips as he lets Hank's cock slide out of his mouth. 

"Hank–" Connor's voice breaks as Hank buries his fingers into the back of his neck again, and Hank opens his eyes to look at him. Connor can barely see the blue of his irises anymore. "I want you to fuck my mouth."

Hank's fingers stop moving. "Oh, fuck, baby, you can't just–" Hank groans as Connor's hand strokes his cock again, his thumb pressing against the slit. "I don't wanna hurt you."

"You won't," Connor says, "I was made for this, remember? And I want it. It's the first time I want this, and I want it with you. Please, Hank, it feels so good."

Connor knows how desperate Hank is when Hank doesn't argue. 

"Tap my thigh or my arm if you want me to stop," he says simply.

"I won't–" 

"Connor."

"All right."

Connor guides Hank's cock into his mouth again slowly, inch by inch, Hank's eyes watching him, so dark with arousal, so _human._ Connor blinks slowly at him, and Hank starts moving, thrusting his hips up as he keeps his fingers inside Connor's neck, and Connor thinks he can come again just from this.

It doesn't take long. Hank's movements lose their coordination but increase in speed, becoming more desperate as he pushes deep into Connor's mouth, groaning loudly every time he hits the back of Connor's throat. Connor closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy it without thinking, focusing on the feeling of Hank's cock, warm and heavy against his tongue, of Hank's fingertips rubbing his wires insistently.

"Con, I, I'm gonna–"

"Mm-hmm," Connor hums, the sound vibrating through Hank's cock, and even though there's so much more he wants to do with Hank, _for_ Hank, he hopes Hank understands that right now this is exactly what he wants.

And it seems like Hank does, because Hank is pushing inside his mouth again, pressing against the back of his throat with small thrusts. Connor swallows around him again and Hank is coming down his throat, cock throbbing against his tongue. Only the fingers inside Connor's neck keep moving as Hank's muscles tense, as he groans and spills the last drops of his come into Connor's mouth.

This is enough for Connor too, the way Hank's fingers mindlessly tug at his wires, the occasional scrape of nails, focused on providing him with pleasure even as Hank is trying to catch his breath, and Connor moans around Hank's cock – still in his mouth, softening now. He grabs Hank's thigh and squeezes as he comes, his loud moans muffled by Hank's cock. It's less overwhelming than his previous orgasm, but the temperature warnings are back in his HUD, flashing red as his body feels hot all over, synthetic muscles spasming with the intensity of it. 

Then Hank's fingers stop, pull out of his neck and slide into Connor's hair again, coated in thirium, and Connor moves his tongue against Hank's cock again.

"Fuck, Con– stop," Hank's fingers tangle in Connor's hair to pull him up, until they're face to face again. "Too sensitive."

"Got it," Connor whispers, leaning in to kiss Hank's lips softly, lazily.

"You okay, Con?" Hank asks against his lips as Connor pulls back. 

"Pretty sure I've never felt better," Connor breathes, smiling. 

"I'm not complaining," Hank says after a while, his fingertips tracing patterns on Connor's back, Connor's synthetic skin disappearing with the touch only to reappear one second later. "But we need a shower, baby. We're a fucking mess."

Connor closes his eyes, sighing softly against Hank's skin. "Yes," he whispers. "I like this, though."

"Yeah, baby," Hank says, holding Connor tightly against him. "Me too."

×

As usual, Connor waits for Hank to wake up the next morning. He watches Hank sleep, runs his fingers through his hair, smiles as Hank sighs and snuggles closer to him, and he waits, remembering the night before, how Hank had made him come again before they went to sleep, how Hank had kissed him, praised him, and how Connor had felt his love even though Hank had never said the word out loud. They had never said it, except for when Connor did while Hank was asleep. But Connor needs Hank to know, now. Hank may not be ready to say it back, but he deserves to know that he is loved. 

Connor holds Hank tightly, breathes him in, closes his eyes and monitors Hank's vitals until Hank wakes up, the steady blue of his LED the only light in the room as the curtains keep the sunlight from getting in, even though it's already noon.

"Con…" Hank says, finally opening his eyes and shifting just enough to look at Connor. 

"Good morning, Hank."

"Good morning, baby," Hank mumbles, smiling as Connor runs his fingers down his neck. "Damn, I never wanna get up. You’re so soft and warm."

Connor smiles, too. "Well, we definitely don't have to get up right now," he says, shifting to face Hank, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"Good," Hank says. "Maybe we can stay here a few more days, before we go home. That is, if you wanna go home with me."

"I wanna go home," Connor says. "I want to meet your dog and I want you to take me to your favorite places in Detroit and I want to cook for you every day."

"We can do anything you want, baby," Hank says, and Connor smiles brightly at him. Hank sighs. "Damn, I don't deserve you."

"You deserve everything, Hank," Connor says, shifting to press his face to Hank's neck. Hank's fingers run through Connor's hair, and Connor lowers his voice as he finally says the words he can't keep inside anymore. "I love you."

Hank's hand stills in his hair, and Connor scans him again, noticing how Hank's heart rate speeds up.

"I said this two nights ago, after you fell asleep, when I felt certain of my feelings for you," Connor says, pulling back to look into Hank's eyes. "I'm even more certain now. You don't have to say it back, but I need you to know that I love you, Hank. I'm in love with you."

He stares into blue eyes – blue eyes that look back at him with so much love, so much adoration, that Connor doesn't need to hear Hank say it.

Connor thinks Hank is going to ask if he's sure, or say that maybe he's mistaken. He's scared that Hank will try to push him away again.

Hank doesn't. He smiles, but Connor can only focus on his eyes and how they shine somehow, so beautiful and so blue, like an ocean where Connor would happily drown. Connor could stare into them forever, lose himself, forget everything else, if Hank never looked away.

Hank's voice catches him by surprise, low and soft, almost a whisper, almost as if he's scared of saying it out loud, but Connor knows he means it. "I love you too, baby."

Hank kisses Connor's temple, right where his LED is glowing blue, and Connor's thirium pump beats fast in his chest.

He's only been a deviant – as Cyberlife calls androids like him – for two days. He doesn't have a lot of experience with feelings. Yet he's convinced that this moment right here with Hank, the love they share, has to be the best feeling in the world.

And this is all he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much for reading!! <3  
> Stay safe, stay hydrated, stay home if possible, I love you guys <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> I'll update weekly! :)  
> If you wanna talk to me, I'm probably yelling about hankcon, reed900 and RK1700 at [twitter.com/lieutenantcat_](https://twitter.com/lieutenantcat_)


End file.
